


Transition

by maximusgayimus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual!Sylvain, Body Dysphoria, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysphoria, F!Byleth, Fainting, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gender Dysphoria, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Glenn Fraldarius, Mentioned Miklan (Fire Emblem), POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gay!felix, no beta we die like Glenn, this fic is just an excuse to write trans!felix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximusgayimus/pseuds/maximusgayimus
Summary: Despite being accepted as male in the Officers Academy, Felix can't seem to shake that his identity is causing him difficulty. He's trans, and people accept him, but he can't transition due to lacking technology. On top of that, he has to deal with Sylvain, who keepsflirting with him, andwhy would he do that unless he still saw Felix as female?Sylvain can't understand what's up with Felix. He's more obsessed with training than anything these days- which isn't really new, but it's still concerning. He's determined to find out what's wrong so he can help, if only Felix wouldtalkto him. What's more, his own demons keep pressing at the corners of his mind, loud and unrelenting.They're two gay idiots in Garreg Mach Monastery- emphasis on theidiot. Misunderstandings, tension. and mental health issues abound this year at the Officers Academy. With any luck, these problems can be resolved before the end of the year... or before either Sylvain or Felix do something reckless.-FormerlyA Time of Transition
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

Felix’s eyes dart across the professor’s stance, searching for an easy opening. He almost scoffs at himself- easy never works. He’ll have to work for this win.

Byleth’s face doesn’t change as she strikes, swinging her sword upward in an attempt to disarm Felix. He dodges, using the momentum to push himself forward, aiming to land a blow on his professor’s shoulder. He’s breathing heavily, but if he can just land this hit, then-

Felix’s sword clatters to the floor and he stumbles backward, panting. Byleth straightens up, watching him stoop to retrieve his sword. He mutters a curse, playing the scene back in his mind. He lifted his arm to bring the sword down on Byleth’s shoulder, and then she blocked, slid her sword forward until the cross-guards met, and twisted while pushing forward until he couldn’t hold on anymore. Felix scowls. They had been working on this for the past fifteen minutes and he still couldn’t get a grip on how to keep his sword in his hands.

“It’s not about how hard you hold onto your sword, it’s about adapting to the enemy’s attack,” Byleth doesn’t even sound winded and Felix scowls at her.

“If I just let them push me back, I’ll end up with a sword at my throat,” he snaps back, getting into a fighting stance. “Again.”

Felix’s sword clatters to the floor again and he swears loudly. Byleth picks his sword up and hands it to him. He snatches it back and strikes before his professor gets ready. Despite this, her face remains impassive as she deflects and moves to attempt to disarm him again. This time, when she twists her blade, Felix loosens his grip enough to allow his sword to move with his hands still on the hilt. He pulls away from her, readjusting his grip and stabbing forward. She dodges away and nods in approval.

“Very good.” Her voice is still monotone, but Felix allows himself to feel a brief surge of pride. “Now, it’s already past training hours. Go to the dining hall and relax for the night.”

He would rather keep training, but his chest is beginning to hurt and he’s breathing far harder than he should be. Biting his cheek, he gives a stiff nod, dropping his training sword on the rack and turning to exit the training ground. As he makes to leave, he hears Byleth call after him, “Good work today, Felix. Take care of yourself.” He huffs in response and pushes open the doors to the training grounds, exiting into the main grounds of the monastery. He doesn't need her pity. She always tells him that: _take care of yourself._ He takes care of himself just fine, thank you very much. 

Students mostly seem to be returning from dinner and Felix allows himself to take a deep breath of the evening air. He really should do some stretches to ease his chest, but… he refuses to be weak like that. No other guy had to do those stretches and breathing exercises, so why should he? A voice in the back of his head nags, _because you’re different than them, Felix. You’re trans. You need to accept your situation and react accordingly._ He lets out another huff, wiping some sweat from his brow as he begins the trek to the dining hall.

He picks up whatever they have left- Daphnel stew, thankfully something he enjoys- and takes a seat alone at the end of a table. He eats idly, one hand tapping the table as he ponders ways to improve upon his sword technique. He needs to get stronger, he determines. His muscles ache already, but he doesn’t care. One of the many curses of being born in a female’s body meant that, while he’s fast, he has to work harder to grow the muscle he needs to be the best swordsman he can be. While this isn’t a revelation, Felic still scowls. He hates it, he _hates_ knowing that if only the Goddess had done her fucking _job_ , he would be better and stronger. Maybe he would’ve been able to beat Glenn before he died, Felix thinks bitterly. But the universe had seemingly cursed him into playing a constant game of catch-up. Sylvain, Dimitri, Dedue, Ashe- they take their sex for granted. Felix scowls at his bowl of stew, standing up and disposing of it before turning at the sound of his name.

“Felix! How was training, buddy?” Sylvain, of course. And, surprisingly, he's alone.

“Good,” Felix replies shortly, watching Sylvain jog over to him. Sylvain raises an eyebrow, but Felix doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he turns to leave the dining hall.

“Hey, wait! I was thinking that you and I could head into town this weekend? You were looking for a new whetstone, right? They got a restock in today. And hey…” Sylvain has moved so he’s in front of Felix again, and he leans in with a grin, “...maybe we could pick up some girls after. How’s about it, bud?”

Felix groans and shoves past his childhood friend. “I’m not interested.”

“C’mon!” Sylvain follows as Felix begins to head for the dormitories. “You’ve never had a girlfriend, have you? You’re too focused on training. Live a little! What happened to the little boy who used to follow me around?”

Felix’s eyes narrow and he glances over his shoulder as they reach the entrance to the dormitories. “He’s gone, Sylvain. Get used to it.” His voice is nearing acidic as he turns back and begins climbing the steps to the second floor. He hears Sylvain sigh behind him, but he doesn’t follow Felix up. Felix makes it to his room and steps inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. The pain in his chest is growing, and he wastes no time in pulling off the top half of his Officers Academy uniform. He removes his binder with a heavy sigh, tossing it to his dresser and collapsing on his bed. He takes a moment to breathe. He really needs to stop training in his binder.

But that would mean nothing but dysphoria. And anyway, all of his armor was fitted to him with his binder on. Why would he train in different circumstances than he would fight in?

_Because it’s for your health_. The voice was back and Felix groaned, rolling onto his side. _It’s unhealthy to work out when you’re compressing your chest like that_.

_Yeah, and I don’t give a shit._ Felix thinks back. He’d rather have a collapsed lung than be seen as female. Of course, there are people who see him as a girl anyway, so does it really matter? _Yes, it does_ , Felix thinks, moving his hands up to take out his bun. His hair is greasy from sweat and he sighs. He should go wash off. But baths mean dysphoria, and Felix really doesn’t want to deal with that tonight. He’d already detected a hint of hesitation in Sylvain’s voice earlier when he’d said _little boy._ He knows that Sylvain had been thinking _girl_. He knows that Sylvain still sees him as female. He still flirts with Felix sometimes, after all. What other reason would he have to flirt with him? Sylvain is as straight as they come, that is clear. 

Felix sits up to take off his boots and socks before falling into bed on his stomach. He turns onto his stomach, head lying on his pillow, looking out into his room. He’s tired, his muscles hurt, and his stomach is twisting in uncomfortable ways whenever he thinks of Sylvain. He lets out a resigned grumble, closing his eyes. He would wake up early and take a bath before anyone else got up.

When Felix blinks his eyes open, it’s still dark outside. He pushes himself up, cursing when he runs a hand through his hair. It’s unpleasantly stiff from dirt and sweat that hasn’t been washed out yet. He swings himself out of bed. It must be around 5 AM he figures. Byleth’s lecture begins at 8 AM, so he has time to bathe, eat, and get a training session in. Perfect.

He gathers his clothes and towels up and pushes his door open. The way to his bath is uneventful, as everyone else is likely asleep. When he undresses and slips into the cool water, Felix closes his eyes. He washes his body this way, his movements efficient despite his lack of sight. It’s easier to bathe with his eyes closed, after all. He can’t see the mistakes that the Goddess saw fit to bake into his skin that way. His hands brush over his breasts and he frowns to himself before submerging his head in the water to clean his hair. No matter what he does, he can’t shake the innate feeling of _wrongness_ that crawls under his skin.

Bath complete, Felix makes his way to the dining hall. The grey light of sunrise is starting to creep across the monastery. He only sees a couple of other students in the dining hall: Lysithea and, surprisingly, Claude bent over a book. Though slightly surprised that Claude does actually know how to read, Felix ignores the two and picks up his own breakfast. He takes a seat and eats in silence.

That is, until he hears an _"ahem"_ from in front of him. Felix looks up into Lysithea’s pale eyes.

“What do you want?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Lysithea scoffs.

“What I want _now_ is for you to stop being so unimaginably _rude_. You’re not special, you know. You’re no better than any other noble here. What, you think you can treat me like I’m some child that you can just brush away?”

Felix raises an eyebrow at that, snorting. “I just asked what you wanted.”

“Hmph. Right. Well, I wanted to ask you to help me with my sword training. I- I can give you sweets for your time, if you wanted.” Lysithea’s cheeks flush slightly, but she maintains eye contact. Felix shakes his head.

“Ask the professor. I’m not interested in wasting my time on someone who doesn’t know how to hold a sword.”

Lysithea’s flush darkens. “Excuse you? Do you think I’m some child who knows nothing about swordsmanship? I have worked harder than anyone in this monastery and I’m not some amateur asking for help! I’m asking you in the hopes that I could learn from the best, but _clearly_ , the best is too good for me!” 

She glares at him as if expecting that this outburst will change his mind. Felix shrugs, moving to continue eating his breakfast. “Ask the professor. I’m not a teacher. Especially not for people who think whining will get them what they want.”

Her face is practically scarlet as she turns on her heel and stalks away. Felix pops another piece of bacon in his mouth, watching Lysithea stomp off. For someone as deadset on proving that she’s mature, she’s awfully childish most of the time. Besides, he doesn’t even like sweets.

“Yikes, Felix. Shot her down real quick, huh?” Claude’s voice comes from down the table. Felix glances over to him. He’s grinning slightly, hand marking the page in his book.

“I’m not interested in teaching, especially not someone who will whine like that,” he repeats, turning away from Claude. He hears a hum.

“Yeah, I got that. Still, wouldn’t’ve hurt to at least ask her what she wanted help with. She’s surprisingly adept with a sword when she picks one up.”

Felix snorts. “I don’t care how good she is. I’m not a teacher. I’d have been willing to spar if she asked, but she didn’t ask that.”

He stands up, finished with his food. He knows Claude is watching as he places his plate on a dish rack and leaves the dining hall. It’s time for some real training, finally- training that doesn’t include an emotionless professor or a childish mage. He stretches, picking up a sword and turning to a training dummy. _Alright, Glenn_ , he thinks, breathing out slowly. _Let’s see if I’m good enough to beat you yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:  
> i am trans myself, ftm. however, i don't experience intense body dysphoria like i'm portraying felix (my dysphoria is more social/gender-related). so, if there are any trans folks who experience more prominent body dysphoria, i'd appreciate some kind of input on how i'm portraying it. thanks! :P
> 
> see you in the next update!
> 
> also, check out my instagram for a bit of sylvix fanart ;P  
> [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/invites/contact/?i=mcgcw9bhhd28&utm_content=1kja9tx)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:  
> past/mentioned physical abuse

Sylvain dashes into the Blue Lions classroom at 8 A.M sharp, dropping into his seat with an apologetic smile to the professor. She gives no indication that she sees him except for making a note on a paper in front of her. He runs a hand through his hair and glances to his left at Felix. He scowls, naturally; Sylvain gives him a quick smile before he begins to organise his supplies for class. He straightens up, ready to go, as Byleth stands and twirls a piece of chalk between her fingers. Sylvain’s eyes follow the movement and he smirks to himself. _If only she knew how attractive she was._

“Alright, class. Everyone is present, so I will begin today’s lecture promptly. We will be discussing the benefits and detriments to being a well-rounded fighter…”

The class passes by uneventfully. He notices that Felix rolls his eyes more often than usual, and he wonders what caused his foul mood. That’s not to say that Felix is usually a ray of sunshine- Sylvain knows better than anyone how prickly he usually is- but there seems to be an extra sharpness to his edges today. When Byleth calls for a brief break, Sylvain turns to his friend.

“Lookin’ a bit grim there, Felix. Everything alright? My offer still stands for this weekend…”

Felix snorts. “People are asking me to do things for them all day today, it seems. I’m fine. And I’m still not going into town with you.”

Sylvain cocks his head to the side. “Oh? Who else is trying to get you to do things? Is it a girl?” He wiggles his eyebrows at this last bit and chuckles to himself at Felix’s expression.

“Lysithea asked me to help her with sword training. So yes, technically it was a girl.” Sylvain doesn’t miss the flicker of pain that crosses Felix’s face briefly. _Clearly, something more happened…_

“That’s all? Is that why you’re in a bad mood? C’mon, Felix, you can’t be _that_ unused to female attention. Someone as cute as you?”

Felix’s hands clench at the table and he nearly snarls at Sylvain, who backs up slightly, eyes going wide. “Sheesh, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Hmph.” Felix turns away and stares down at his notes. Sylvain watches him for a moment before turning back to his own notes. Ok, something is going on. Felix is clearly upset about something, but it’s impossible to parse out what about from his words. Sylvain spends the rest of Byleth’s lecture coming up with possibilities in his head.

_Lysithea… sword training… girls… maybe he likes Lysithea and she reacted badly to him in some way? No, she approached him… maybe she came onto him and he didn’t like that? Possibly, but Lysithea doesn’t seem like much of a romantic. He never said if he actually trained with Lystheia anyway. Maybe he said no and then she yelled at him? I didn’t know that Lysithea was practicing with a sword in the first place. Maybe he couldn’t teach her something and they both got frustrated. Felix seems to only care about training, anyway. I doubt he would care much about anything romantic…_

Sylvain starts slightly when Byleth calls for lunch. Wow, he really zoned out, didn’t he? More than that, when he looks up from rearranging his school supplies, his professor stands above his desk.

“Sylvain, I would like to talk to you for a moment.” 

As if he would say no. He stands up, crosses his arms over his chest, and winks at Byleth. “Anything for you, Professor. What’s up?”

“You were nearly late to class today and you were unengaged for the latter half of my lecture.” It was a statement. Sylvain sighs, running a hand through his hair. He takes a moment to watch the rest of the Blue Lions students leave the classroom.

“Well, I’m not gonna argue with you on that one, Professor. I was caught up with a girl this morning-” Byleth’s face remains impassive as ever, “-and I was thinking about stuff during your lecture. Sorry. I promise I’ll be better for class after lunch.” He gives her another wink to accentuate his point.

“Alright. If there’s anything I can do to help you, let me know. My job as a professor is to cater to the needs my students to help them learn, after all.”

“Actually, Professor,” Sylvain moves his hands behind his neck, smirking at his professor, “I’d like it if you would have lunch with me. Promise that I’ll behave.”

He can tell that Byleth bites back a sigh. “Fine. But just this once.”

“Great! Well, ladies first.”

Sylvain follows his professor out of the classroom, a grin on his face. As concerned as he is about Felix, he’s more than happy to spend time with his professor. She _is_ gorgeous, after all. Who would he be if not an infamous philanderer? And he had bet Ingrid that he could snag her for a meal sometime this week, so he was ready to cash in on some gold.

The dining hall is nearly full when they arrive, but Sylvain manages to find two empty seats by Ingrid. Byleth takes a seat across from him, her plate loaded high with pheasant meat. Sylvain grins lopsidedly at his professor, bumping his childhood friend with his shoulder.

“Ye of little faith, Ingrid. I snagged a meal with our professor after you insisted it would be impossible. I believe I’m owed some gold?”

Ingrid shoots him a glare. “Actually, I have more tact than to participate in such dealings in front of our professor.” She turns to Byleth then, sighing. “My apologies for having to deal with Sylvain. I had wanted a simple bet to prove that he needed to change his tactics, but I guess it didn’t go according to my plan. Still, thank you for dining with us. Your company is always a pleasure.”

“Always so quick to apologise for me,” Sylvains says lazily, digging into his own meal. “I should get you something to make up for it.”

“You can fix your behaviour to make up for it,” Ingrid shoots back. She sighs again, turning back to the professor. Byleth sits quietly, watching the two friends quarrel. “Well, Professor, I’m sure you would like us to discuss other things. You haven’t told us about our mission for this month yet. What is it?”

Byleth sets her fork down, swallowing what meat she was chewing. “I don’t mind, Ingrid. However, it would do you well to inform you of this month’s mission, so I will. This month, we will-”

“Watch where you’re stepping, boar. I’d rather not have to wash your filth off these clothes.” Felix’s low voice comes from behind Sylvain. He turns, momentarily distracted from the conversation. Dimitri stands in front of Felix, frowning slightly. Dedue stands behind Dimitri, silent and watching.

“I apologise, Felix. I did not mean to bump into you.”

“Sure. Just do me a favour and go take a bath with your lapdog, yeah? You two reek of blood and fleas.” Felix looks more angry than usual, Sylvain notes. He wouldn’t normally have such an adverse reaction to Dimitri. Sure, he didn’t get along with Dimitri, but this…

“I will not accept such words against His Highness.” Dedue steps into the conversation before Dimitri can reply. Felix scoffs.

“Yeah? Go on, boar. Give your pet the order to attack me. He’s itching for it.”

He hears shifting from across the table and turns his head for a moment. Byleth has risen out of her seat, ready to intercept if she needs to. Sylvain looks back at Felix, Dimitri, and Dedue, a feeling of dread building inside him.

“Felix, I do not wish for any violence-”

“Oh yeah?” Felix’s voices rises, his words are sharper, “Tell that to the men you slaughtered two years ago. Tell that to their families, who had to bury mutilated corpses.”

“Felix-”

“‘I do not wish for any violence’, the boar says, even as his hands are still stained red. I’ve wasted enough of my breath on you. Animals don’t understand reason, after all.” Felix steps forward, staring at Dimitri. “Get out of my way.” The words are hissed.

Dimitri sighs, stepping to the side. Dedue follows suit, his eyes following Felix.

“Tell Glenn you don’t want any violence. See how he responds.”

A gasp comes from Sylvain’s right. Dimitri blinks, and then a slight smile crosses his face. Sylvain’s not entirely sure, but the smile looks… wrong. It’s unnerving.

“Oh, are you going to show your true colours now?” Felix is almost jeering. “That look in your eye’s coming back, boar. What would the old king say if he saw you like-”

Dimitri’s hand is around Felix’s throat in a second, a glint coming into his eyes, his unsettling smile widening. Felix seems surprised for a moment, but then his eyes narrow again.

“Your Highness-”

“Stay out of this, Dedue.” Dimitri’s voice is eerily calm. Sylvain hears boots hurrying around the table. His eyes focus on the way Dimitri’s fingers wrap around Felix’s throat. He has no doubt that the prince could kill Felix in a heartbeat. Unconsciously, his own hand comes up and rubs at his throat. The bruises have long since faded, but the memory of his brother trying to choke the life out of him remains fresh in his mind. It’s been years, but even so…

“Dimitri. Let go of Felix.” Byleth has reached the pair. Sylvain becomes incredibly aware of the silence that fills the dining hall. Everyone is watching the scene play out.

Dimitri blinks, his smile vanishing. He shakes his head slightly as he draws his hand back, taking a deep breath. “I… I apologise. Professor. Felix.” He gives a curt nod to each before turning on his heel and departing the dining hall. Dedue follows suit after sparing a glance around the room.

Byleth then turns to Felix. Her expression betrays no emotion, as per usual, but Sylvain can’t help but pity Felix. He’s about to receive a long lecture, Sylvain is sure.

“Felix, I would like to speak to you in private now.”

“Wait!” Shit. Why did he interject? Both Byleth and Felix turn to look at him, the latter frowning heavily, one of his hands rubbing over his neck. “I, uh… I mean, I can talk to Felix if you’d like, Professor. Me and Ingrid can.” Ingrid elbows him harshly. “Ow- well, I can. I’ve known him forever, and Dimitri too. I can at least help-”

“Shut up, Sylvain.” Felix is glaring at him now. Sylvain can’t help but feel a little hurt, even though he’s heard the words from his friend countless times before. Felix’s face shows none of the thoughts surely racing through his brain. Sylvain sighs, one hand running through his hair. Felix had been acting off this morning, and now…

“Thank you, Sylvain, but that will not be necessary.” Byleth turns back to Felix. “Now, Felix... “

“Yeah, whatever.” Felix shoots him one last piercing look before following the professor out of the dining hall. A collective sigh seemingly runs through the dining hall. Conversation immediately picks back up- no doubt this incident will be the talk of the monastery for the rest of the day. Sylvain turns back to Ingrid slowly, unsure of how he was even feeling. Ingrid looks distressed.

“What do you think that was about?” He decides to ask, stabbing at his food with his fork, no longer hungry. Ingrid lets out a shaky sigh and shrugs.

“I… I’m not sure. I’ve never seen either of them act like that. It was almost like right after… right after…”

Sylvain didn’t need to ask what she meant. He just nodded, dropping his fork. “It seemed like Felix was _trying_ to provoke Dimitri. Like he knew Dimitri would react… that way.”

“He’s been that way around Dimitri for two years now. You know that.”

“Yeah, but… not that bad. I’ve never heard him bring up… Glenn before.” Sylvain says this very carefully, knowing how important Glenn was to Ingrid. As expected, his friend’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment in sorrow.

“I… I haven’t either.” Her words are quiet. There’s something big in the air, but Sylvain can’t quite place it. He doesn’t know what to do now. Dimitri is Goddess-knows where, and Felix is likely getting chewed out by the professor. The nervous chatter around them has eased into laughter and shouts, but Sylvain can’t help but feel worse every passing second.

“Ingrid, there- I- he was acting off this morning, but I didn’t do anything. What if-” he cuts himself off, sighing heavily. He shouldn’t blame himself, he knows that. But remembering Felix’s aggressive nature this morning, he felt guilty. What if he could have done something differently?

“Sylvain, that wasn’t your fault.” Ingrid sounds tired and Sylvain feels worse. Now he’s gone and made Ingrid exasperated with him. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut… “There’s something going on with Felix that you can’t control.”

“I could’ve let the professor know, at least. Maybe she could’ve gotten through to him-”

“Sylvain, enough. I’m getting out of here. You should do the same until class starts again.” Ingrid stands up and leaves without another word. Sylvain puts his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, old words bouncing around in his head. _Your mere existence has stolen everything from me! You’ve been blessed with a Crest and you can’t even be a decent human being. Making others hate you just for fun. You’re a failure, you fool. Nothing but a burden on the rest of us._

“Shut up, Miklan.” He mutters to himself, running his hands down his face and looking up. The dining hall is still bustling with life and suddenly he feels trapped. He stands abruptly. He needs out, he needs-

“Sylvain!”

Fuck. He plasters on a smile and turns, his eyes meeting with Hilda’s. _Of course, it has to be her._ “Hey there, Hilda. Need something?”

She smiles up at him. “Well, not really, but since you asked-” and then she’s diving into a list of her chores for the week, and complaining that _she has so much to do_ , and _if only someone could help her with everything, she would be so grateful_ -

“Look, Hilda-” Sylvain runs a hand through his hair, his apologetic smile slipping onto his face easily, “I’d really love to help, but I need to run right now. I have a tea time planned with someone, and I’m already late.” A blatant lie, but he desperately needs to get away from the crowd. Hilda pouts.

“Aww, ok. I won’t keep you. Later, Sylvain!”

Huh. She hadn’t complained as much as he thought she would. Well, he isn’t going to wait. He gives her a wave and leaves the dining hall as quickly as he can without attracting unwanted attention. As soon as he is away from the noise, he lets out a shaky breath. _Fuck, that was rough._ But why? He wanders in the direction of the greenhouse. His dormitory is also in this direction, so he can duck up there if he needs to. Why was that such an ordeal? He breathes in the scent of flowers deeply, allowing it to calm his racing nerves. _I haven’t thought about Miklan in months. Why…_

Sylvain sighs. He knows why. Dimitri’s hand, his palm pressed against Felix’s throat, his fingers wrapped around so easily. Felix, smaller than Dimitri by such a large margin, completely as his mercy. Miklan, staring at him with such potent hatred that Sylvain was surprised he hadn’t drowned in it. Miklan’s hand, his palm pressed against Syvain’s throat, his fingers wrapped around so easily…

And why had Felix provoked Dimitri in the first place? Sure, he’d been a bit angry this morning, but that was much different from deliberately antagonising his house leader. Something is clearly going on. Was Felix angry at Dimitri specifically, or was the prince just an easy target for him to rile up? Sylvain knows firsthand what self-destructive behaviours look like, and he’s growing uneasy at how familiar Felix’s actions feel. He needs to act. Before his friend does something stupid, like charge into a group of bandits alone, or something. To be fair, Sylvain isn’t sure where Felix would find a group of bandits, but he doesn’t like Felix’s chances if he does.

He runs his hands through his hair again, pulling slightly. He can wait here until lunch is over. Byleth is with Felix right now. She’ll stop him from doing anything reckless, he tells himself. He’ll be ok with her. And, Sylvain allows himself to hope, she might be able to figure out what’s wrong and help. He leans back, staring up at the glass roof of the greenhouse. He’ll allow himself to hope for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:  
> things are heatin' up, eh? thank you to those who commented on the last chapter, it definitely helped me out :) you can always leave advice in the comments, even if i don't specifically ask for it. feedback is appreciated!  
> i love you all, have a good day/night, drink water, all that jazz.
> 
> there's more sylvix art up on my instagram! i drew it myself. [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/invites/contact/?i=mcgcw9bhhd28&utm_content=1kja9tx)
> 
> see you next update!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:  
> mentioned ideation of self-harm  
> accidental self-harm

His breath comes in sharp, painful gasps as he stares at Byleth. She’s sweating, but only lightly. Felix, on the other hand, is practically drenched, and his hair has long since come out of its bun.

“Felix. Try and breathe steadily. In for four, out for five, ok?” Her voice emotionless as ever, and Felix’s hands tighten on the grip of his sword. He hates it, he hates _her_ \- how is she always so unaffected?

“Forget this,” he snaps, throwing his blade to the side. The professor just watches him, relaxing from her fighting stance. She brought him to the training grounds to let off steam; she said that she thought his outburst was due to pent up rage. Sure.

He turns on his heel and stalks out of the training grounds, hands coming up to try and pull his hair back into its bun. His hair doesn’t make him dysphoric, surprisingly- he actually likes how it looks when it’s pulled up rather than cut short. But when it’s down, he _knows_ that he gets looks he doesn’t want, he just _knows_ that there is hesitance in the voices of those who call him _”sir”_. And he hates it. He hates the hesitance, he hates the double-takes, and he _fucking hates_ when Sylvain calls him cute.

Maybe that’s what set him off, Felix ponders. His feet carry him without him thinking about where he’s going. Maybe he’s just upset that the boy he considers as his best friend- the one who he made a stupid childish promise with- is stuck in the past. Or maybe Sylvain’s just eager to fuck anything with tits and a vagina. Felix snorts to himself at the thought. As if Sylvain would want to fuck him. Felix is hostile, aloof, and _absolutely_ inexperienced. Though he doubts that Sylvain would care about the last part. _Maybe he prefers virgins,_ he thinks idly. Then he shakes his head.

What the hell is he doing, thinking about Sylvain like that? Felix is supposed to be his best friend, and here he is, forgetting about every good thing Sylvain’s ever done in favour of judging his hobbies. He lets out a harsh sigh. He’s not even sure what his opinion of Sylvain is anymore. Sure, he cares about him, but…

“Oh, Felix. You look… like you’ve been training hard.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’s here? Felix arrived in front of the greenhouse, intending to make his way to his dorm room, and of _fucking_ course Sylvain is just walking by. _Great._

“I have been,” he says curtly, pausing to face Sylvain. He can’t tell what his friend’s expression is. It’s almost pained, almost… pitiful. Felix feels his rage returning at that. He doesn’t need Sylvain’s pity. He doesn’t need _anything_ except for Sylvain to stop looking at him like he’s… like he’s some _damsel_ that needs saving.

Sylvain hums and nods, moving his hands behind his neck. “You really should chill out every now and then. Seriously, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep this up.”

Felix almost laughs in his face. _Hurt myself? Oh, no, Sylvain. I have Dimitri to do that for me._ Instead of laughing, he just shrugs. “Only if I’m weak enough to let that happen. Which I’m not.”

“It’s not about you being weak, it’s-” Sylvain lets out a sigh. It sounds frustrated, but Felix doesn’t care. “It’s about taking care of yourself, it’s- no one can go forever, Felix. You’re only human.”

Felix huffs. “I know damn well that I’m human, Sylvain. It’s none of your business how much I work when the only time you ever break a sweat is in bed with a girl.” He nearly spits the last word, turning away from his friend. His friend, who he seems to be pushing away more and more. _Whatever. I work better alone anyway._

“Felix, you-”

“Shut up. I don’t care enough to hear you out.” This time, Sylvain follows him up the stairs to the dorms. Felix bites his lip. He’s not worried that Sylvain will force him to talk, it’s just… he doesn’t like whatever’s going on right now. It feels uncomfortable and if he starts talking, then Sylvain will inevitably… well, Felix isn’t sure what he’ll do, but it won’t be good.

“Tell me what’s going on, then. If you don’t want to listen to me, then talk.”

Felix pushes open the door to his room and slams it in Sylvain’s face, locking it immediately. He hears Sylvain sigh from outside.

“Come on, Felix. Something’s obviously wrong and I want to help. That’s what friends do, right? At least let me in. I just… I want to know you’re ok.” Sylvain’s voice breaks a little and Felix can’t resist a slight bark of laughter. This is the most prepared speech that he’s ever heard. Sylvain must be used to standing outside people’s doors and begging them to let him in.

“I don’t give a damn about what you want. Go find a girl or something.” Felix says through the door. He moves into his room, electing to ignore whatever Sylvain says next. If he stops responding, then his friend will eventually leave, right? Right.

“Felix…” He can hear shifting outside. Felix jumps slightly as he hears a dull _thud_ on his door. What the hell is Sylvain doing? “Felix. Let me in.”

Sylvain’s voice has developed an odd quality to it and Felix shivers. He doesn’t like it. He just wants his friend to go away and let him be, let him stare at himself in his mirror and hate himself relentlessly. It’s his routine at this point: get up, train, get angry at someone treating him with pity or disdain or _something_ , storm back to his room, and then hate his body until he eventually falls asleep. 

“Open the fucking door, Felix.” Felix jumps. _What the fuck?_ He’s never heard Sylvain sound like that before. His voice is dark, sharp, and commanding in a way that unnerves Felix to no end. For the first time ever, Felix feels a tingle of fear run through him due to Sylvain.

There’s a loud slam on his door. “Open the goddamn door, or I’ll break it down!”

Moving almost robotically, Felix walks to his door, unlocks it, and opens it. He doesn’t look up at Sylvain. A hand shoves into his chest and he stumbles backward. His door slams shut again. Felix’s eyes slowly travel up Sylvain’s chest until they make eye contact. Felix shivers.

Sylvain looks angrier than Felix has ever seen him. There’s an odd sheen in his eyes and Felix is starkly reminded of Miklan. When they were little, Felix had limited interactions with Sylvain’s brother, but he remembers being scared of Miklan’s stare. It was disconcerting, as if he was sizing Felix up, finding his weaknesses, calculating what he could do to cause the most direct pain. Felix is only vaguely aware of the relationship between Miklan and Sylvain; he knows it’s not good, but he doesn’t really know much else. Sylvain always got quiet if he was reminded of Miklan, so that probably wasn’t a good sign. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sylvain snaps at him, glowering down at Felix. Felix comes back to himself and returns his friend’s glare.

“ _My_ fucking problem? Do you hear yourself right now?” Felix shoves Sylvain back- or at least, he tries to. Sylvain’s hands come up in a flash, gripping his wrists so tightly that Felix knows it’ll bruise. He tries to yank his hands back, but his friend doesn’t let go. He’s strong- stronger than Felix by far. _Fuck you, Sothis_ , he thinks bitterly. _Fuck you for giving me a weak body. Fuck you for making my life infinitely more difficult than it should be._ But, at the same time, he feels a strange sense of satisfaction from the pain. That probably doesn’t bode well, he thinks.

“I wouldn’t be acting like this if not for you,” Sylvain hisses. “If you were acting like normal, if you weren’t acting out to get Dimitri to hurt you, if you would just let _anyone_ help you-”

“Oh, so you know me so well now, huh?” Felix interrupts him, finally freeing himself from Sylvain’s iron grip. “Funny how you’re trying to yell at me for provoking Dimitri, but you’re doing the exact same thing now. Are you gonna choke me out, too? I saw you looking. Maybe I should start calling you boar too now. Maybe I should bring up your dead family- oh, but wait, your whole family is still alive. Alive and breathing down your neck, writing you letters to lecture your behaviour, reminding you every month that you’re just a-” Felix cuts himself off when he sees the look in Sylvain’s eyes. It’s murderous. Felix’s blood runs cold. He suddenly gets the feeling that Sylvain is going to hurt him if he says one more word.

“Say it.” His voice is eerily calm. Felix swallows, not daring to look away. Sylvain’s eyes are darker than he’s ever seen them. His heart is pounding in his chest. He shakes his head mutely.

Sylvain takes a step forward, his hand reaching forward to grab Felix’s throat. It’s different from Dimitri’s- firstly, Sylvain isn’t wearing gloves, and Felix can feel the thrum of his pulse against his neck. Second, his grip isn’t restrained. He isn’t genuinely trying to choke Felix, but he has no reservations about any damage he causes. Third, Sylvain’s eyes have deadly intent, where Dimitri’s were simply pained. Felix feels a thrill of excitement. Or maybe it’s satisfaction. He’s not sure.

“Say. It.” Sylvain leans in, his voice hushed, his nose an inch from Felix’s. Felix licks his lips, staring into his friend’s eyes. He can’t tell what he’s feeling. Maybe it’s arousal, maybe it’s anger, maybe it’s just pity. All he knows is that Sylvain’s hand around his throat and his dark demeanor is stirring _something_ deep within him.

Suddenly, Sylvain leaps back. His eyes go wide. He stares at his hand, then up at Felix. Felix raises an eyebrow, confused, still feeling… something odd. “What the hell was that?” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sylvain looks away. “I- fuck, Felix, I’m sorry, I-” he stutters for a moment, then turns and practically runs out of the room. Felix stares after him, completely, utterly confused.

What the fuck? What in the Goddess’s name was _that_? He begins pacing, making sure to lock his door before taking off his shirt. _What the hell is wrong with him? What the hell is wrong with ME? What the hell was that? What the hell…_ He pulls off his binder and takes a deep breath. Ok, ok. Maybe he can make sense of this.

He woke up, took a bath, and went to the dining hall for breakfast. There, Lysithea asked for sword training and he refused. She got mad and then Claude talked to him for a bit. He left and went to train on his own before class. While training, his chest had started to hurt and he had nearly passed out, so he returned to his room and stared at himself in the mirror until 8 AM. He went to class, then Sylvain had called him cute and he had almost punched him. At lunch, he provoked Dimitri, then went and trained with Byleth until he couldn’t anymore. Then Sylvain had followed him up to his room, and…

Ok, he can figure this out, right? Sylvain told him to take care of himself, Felix told him to fuck off. That was pretty standard for them. Sylvain kept pestering, and then he’d gotten weird. Felix still can’t quite figure out what the trigger was. He can’t remember exactly what he’d said. Nothing too out of the ordinary, that’s for sure. _So why was this different? What’s going on?_

He groans. _Enough recapping,_ he thinks. _I don’t care what’s going on, as long as it doesn’t affect him on the battlefield._ And that was that, right? Felix stares into his own eyes. He brings a hand up to his neck, running over where Sylvain’s hand had been. _Getting two guys to choke me in one day? I must be getting lucky,_ he thinks bitterly. And both were his childhood friends, too. He just needs to get Ingrid in on the action.

Felix drops his gaze to his chest and he clenches his jaw. He lifts one hand to poke at the extra lumps that he hates _so much_. Goddess, what he would do to be rid of them. He’s talked to Manuela more times than he can count, and each time, he ended up leaving in a fit of rage. _”Felix, I’m sorry, but the technology just isn’t available for what you want. I’m sorry I can’t help.”_ He scowls. He doesn’t _want_ his boobs to be gone, he _needs_ it- needs it more than anything he’s ever needed in his life. If only the fucking physician would understand that- of course, she probably loves her tits, given how much she flaunts them. Felix digs his nails into his skin and rakes his hands across his flesh. It leaves behind satisfying red lines and he sighs. He knows that it’s useless to do anything rash, but _Goddess_ , would he love to take a knife to his breasts. Felix is smart enough to know how illogical that would be, but… the urge bites at him until he finally tears his gaze away from the mirror. He pulls his baggiest shirt from his dresser and throws it on, adjusting it until he can’t see a bump where his boobs are. He fucking hates it. He hates everything about his body- it’s too small, too weak, too curvy. It’s practically useless.

He flops onto his bed. It’s hardly 1 PM- he should be in class- but Felix is exhausted. It seems he’s feeling that way more and more often. Maybe he should tell Manuela- oh, right, she’d probably just tell him that she couldn’t help. Some physician she was. He turns on his side. He wants to train, wants to do anything to keep himself from idling on incompetence, but the rest of his class is in the training grounds and he _really_ doesn’t want to see them. And he really should rest for a while with his binder off…

Fuck it. Felix stands, takes off the baggy shirt, pulls on his binder and his normal attire, picks up his sword, and strides out of his room. He can’t go to the training grounds… well, he’ll find something. He makes his way out of the monastery.

After he walks for twenty minutes, he finds what he’s looking for: a nice open clearing surrounded by trees a fair distance away from the monastery. Felix makes his way to the center and gets into a fighting stance. He feels better like this. On the battlefield, it doesn’t matter who you are- it only matters how strong you are. And he’s determined to be the strongest swordmaster Fódlan has ever seen.

He starts to train in earnest, imagining faces that he slashes out of the air. Rodrigue, Dimitri, Sylvain. He can practically hear them whispering as he lets out a cry, bringing his sword down. He feels hot, despite the cool air that surrounds him. Felix pauses to roll his sleeves up before resuming his training. Faster, stronger, better. Faster, stronger-

He sways. Black dances at the edge of his vision and he shakes his head. _Weak. You’ve hardly been out here for thirty minutes._ He dodges an invisible attack and retaliates, his breath coming in heaving gasps. The darkness clouds his vision until he can barely see. _Come on, you weakling! Fight through it!_

He can’t.

When Felix wakes up, there’s a stinging pain in his right arm. He hisses out a curse and pushes himself up, arms shaking violently. His sword shines red. He looks down and swears loudly. There is a gash in his white shirt; upon closer inspection, he realises that the cut in his arm is still oozing blood. For fuck’s sake.

Face burning in humiliation, Felix forces himself to stand. He can’t believe this. He’s going to have to walk into the monastery with his own sword bloody and a cut on his right arm. He would absolutely not tell anyone that he passed out, so what should he do? Make up some ludicrous story? Refuse to answer questions? Yeah, he thinks. Probably that one. He grumbles as he begins his trudge to the monastery. Based on the sun’s position, it’s coming up on 2 PM. So he was only outside of the monastery for an hour… great. Just _fucking_ fantastic.

Felix ignores anyone who asks what happened as he makes his way to the infirmary. When he gets there, he pauses. _Well, here goes nothing._

It’s not that bad. Manuela must still be teaching her class because some random nurse helps clean him up and heal the cut. She asks what happened but Felix refuses to answer her and she doesn’t press. It’s almost nice. When she’s finished, she advises him to ask a friend for help on stitching up the tear in his jacket. Felix hums in a noncommittal way and she dismisses him. He debates returning to class for the latter half of the afternoon session, but… no, Byleth will understand. Or maybe she won’t. He doesn’t really care.

He’s going back to his room. This whole day has been bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:  
> i'm not sure if i'm throwing too many things into this fic too quickly. but also, i don't want to dwell on 2k words of nothing really happening, y'know? idk, lmk if you think it's too fast-paced. felix is an idiot. that's all for today.
> 
> as always, my instagram is [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/maximus.artimus/). come talk to me about fe3h and gay shit.
> 
> see you in the next update!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:  
> underage drinking  
> implied sexual content

It’s been two weeks and Felix hasn’t said a single word to him.

Sylvain shouldn’t be surprised- his behaviour was _atrocious_ \- but it still hurts. He considers Felix his best friend, but he wouldn’t even listen to an apology if Sylvain tried. He’d approached him the following day, and the day after that, and Felix pushed him away both times. That was fine, he thought, maybe he just needs more time. Well, a week later, Sylvain tried again. What did he get? A bloody nose. He kind of deserved it, but still.

Sylvain knows he fucked up. He doesn’t know what triggered him into acting the way he did, but… he hates himself so _goddamned_ much for it. He’s hardly been able to focus in the past two weeks. Every time Byleth lectures them, Sylvain thinks about how patient she is with each and every student, how she lets students come to her of their own accord if they wanted to talk, and how he absolutely did not do that. He thinks about how he threatened to break down Felix’s door and then _choked him_ when Felix tried to bring him to his senses. Goddess, why is he still here? He’s ruined one friendship, and given the looks Ingrid has been giving him, he wouldn’t be surprised if she pulled the plug on him too. That left him with Dimitri. Hey, maybe they could bond over both having choked Felix in a fit of anger (or whatever it was), right? Sylvain groans to himself. No, it’s ridiculous. He’s ruined everything and he knows it. Fuck, why did he have to follow Felix up to his room?

Well, they’re going to have to figure something out. Tomorrow, the Blue Lions will march to Zanado to eliminate some bandits. Sylvain is acutely aware that he’s never taken a human life before. Every time he thinks about the mission ahead of him, his hands begin to shake. He’s 19 years old, the heir to a vital noble house in Faerghus, and somehow he’s avoided shedding blood before now. It’s honestly shocking. Maybe his father just hadn’t cared enough to prepare Sylvain for life on the border with Sreng. Whatever. He’s going to have to steel himself sooner or later- at least it was early in the year. 

Dimitri calls the Blue Lions to meet with him and Byleth at midday. Sylvain arrives in the classroom, standing next to Mercedes. He has a feeling that Ingrid and Annette are both upset with him, and he’s well aware of why. Even if Mercedes has heard, he knows that she would never judge him outright. Just one of the many merits that she possesses. Sylvain pointedly doesn’t look at Felix when he walks in.

“Professor, I just got word from the knights that the last of the thieves have been cornered,” Dimitri speaks. Sylvain tries his best not to think about how both his hand and Dimitri’s have been wrapped around Felix’s throat.

“Just as planned. They’re in Zanado, the Red Canyon,” Ingrid adds. Sylvain glances at her as she speaks and tries his best to ignore how she doesn’t glance back.

“We certainly can’t allow those underhanded thieves to get away. Let’s work together and do our best to take them down!” Ashe sounds so excited and Sylvain barely restrains himself from wincing. Goddess, he wishes he could share in his enthusiasm.

“It matters not who we’re up against. They will not harm His Highness.”

“Hmph.” Sylvain’s heart starts to beat entirely too quickly when Felix speaks up. “We’re just fighting common thieves, right? I don’t expect much of a challenge.” _Of course you don’t. You’re the strongest swordsman in the monastery, aside from the professors._ Before he can stop himself, words are tumbling from his lips.

“Aren’t you a spoilsport.” He nearly slaps himself in the face as Felix whips his head toward him with a piercing glare. Sylvain’s stomach turns and he moves to cover himself. “I’m actually quite excited myself.” A complete lie. “Who knows… There may even be some cute lady thieves.” He pulls a smile onto his lips and even manages a wink at Byleth, who just stares back. No response is better than a lecture, so he shrugs to himself.

But… _Sothis,_ does Felix look furious.

“Hmm.” Annette’s voice has a hint of something that Sylvain doesn’t like. He knows it’s his fault, so he chooses to stay quiet for the rest of the meeting. When the professor dismisses them, Sylvain is the first out of the classroom.

He needs something- he needs _anything_ to clear his head. Felix, Ingrid, Annette, Miklan, his father, Dimitri, the bandits that he’s going to cut down with his lance… He can’t stop the thoughts from bouncing around in his head. His hands are shaking, heart pounding, ears ringing as he stumbles into a tavern in the monastery marketplace. He can vaguely hear the bustling noise of the tavern. He makes his way directly to the bar, orders a tankard of _something_ , and slumps forward on his stool to begin indulging himself in drink. As he downs his mead, the ringing in his head subsides. _Thank the Goddess_. Sylvain finishes his first tankard, feeling the pleasant warmth of the alcohol settling in his chest. He takes in a deep breath over his empty mug. The chatter in the tavern surrounds him, but he finds himself comforted in some way by it. No one pays attention to him here. They’re here for their own reasons, just as he is, and their eyes sweep over him with no malice. It’s a wonderful feeling.

Sylvain’s halfway through his second tankard when he feels a presence slide into the bar next to him. He turns, smirking as he catches sight of the beauty next to him. Given the flush on her face, she’s drunken a fair amount as well.

“Hello there, beautiful,” he leans forward, one arm resting on the bar. Her eyes are half-lidded, her smile lopsided as she gazes at him.

“Hello to you too, handsome,” she giggles. Sylvain feels a flare of hatred in his chest. He takes a long drink.

“What brings you to me this fine afternoon? The Goddess must be smiling on me.” Flirting comes so naturally to him- after years of practice, countless partners, he’s confident in his ability to land this woman in his bed with little effort. A slight prick in the back of his mind tells him that it's the afternoon, he shouldn’t be drinking, he’s running away from his problems. Sylvain ignores it, slipping a bit more charm into his easy smile.

“I could say the same of myself,” she smiles. Sylvain resists the urge to roll his eyes. “To be honest, I’ve seen you around the monastery. You’re a student, right? But you have this…” she waves her hands mindlessly. “I don’t know. Some air of maturity, or something. I’m not sure exactly. I just think it’s sexy. And, well, I’m counting this as my lucky day that I caught you in here.”

Maturity, huh? He’s never heard anyone describe him as mature before. He chuckles in response to her words, taking another drink from his mead before replying, “Well, I’m more than happy that you caught me here. I don’t know if I’ve seen you around before. Surely, I would remember such radiance.”

Her face, already flushed from drink, darkens. She’s looking up at him through her eyelashes. Sylvain reaches a hand forward, resting his palm against her cheek. “I must have been blind before,” he continues, “because right now, you’re all I can see. How could I have ever skipped over you before?”

Her eyelashes flutter and she leans in close, breath hot against his ear. “Goddess, you know how to make a woman feel special, huh? Feeling up to making me feel special in some other ways, too?”

Sylvain runs his fingers across her jaw and forces her to look up at him, staring hotly into her eyes. “Gladly.”

He finishes off his second tankard, drops money on the table, and stumbles out of the tavern with the woman on his heels. They’re both drunk and horny, and when they finally push into Sylvain’s room, it takes mere minutes for him to end up inside of her.

When he wakes up, it’s dark outside. Thankfully, the other side of his bed is cold. Annoyingly, his head is pounding. Maybe two tankards of mead was overkill. Oh well. He’d gotten laid, so it was fine. It occurs to him that neither of them had asked for the other’s name and he feels a smile warm his face. Thank the Goddess. He wouldn’t have to deal with trying to remember if she came up to him later.

Sylvain thinks for a moment that he should probably reassess his coping mechanisms- he couldn’t for the life of him remember if he’d used a condom- before brushing the thought away. He’s contemplated his habits many times before, usually at Ingrid’s request, and he’s always come to the same conclusion: he deserves to be hurt. Of course, he would never tell that to anyone if pressed, but it was the truth that he’d accepted long ago. Miklan drilled it into his head, over and over. When Sylvain lashed out, his pain too much to bear, it just reaffirmed the lesson in his mind. _No matter what you do, you hurt people. The least you can do is hurt yourself as well._

He rolls out of bed. It’s probably around midnight, maybe a bit later. He’s not sure if he can fall back asleep at this point. He pulls on some clothes, debating what to do. He checks that his door is locked, then checks again, and again to be sure. He checks his drawer, ruffling through the clothes a few times, then returns to the door and makes sure it’s still locked. Satisfied for the moment, he takes a seat at his desk and pulls a thick book towards him. It’s a comprehensive introduction to black magic. Byleth was insistent that he begin to look over it on his own time. Sylvain’s still confused as to why- he’s training to be a paladin, not a warlock. Well, she probably has her reasons. Sylvain begins to flip through the book. He absorbs the information quickly. It’s easy enough to understand, after all.

After a few chapters, Sylvain gets up and checks his door. Still locked. He feels uneasy, though, so he picks up his chair and pushes it against the door. Just in case. He returns to the desk, leaning down to flip through the next few pages. It’s so boring. He catches his mind wandering several times, usually to a certain dark-haired swordsman. _Fuck’s sake._

He slams the book shut and pulls on boots and his jacket. He’s going to the training grounds. His hangover is definitely going to disagree with him on this one, but Sylvain doesn’t really care. He needs to do _some_ sort of work before the morning comes, and training with his lance will actually be useful. Unlike studying reason in his room. Seriously, what is Byleth thinking with that? He ponders it as he walks to the training grounds.

The night air is cool on his skin. It’s refreshing. Once the winter comes, though… Sylvain bites his lip, quickening his pace. Goddess, he can’t handle the snow. It’s more common in Faerghus, but he knows there’s a high probability of snow sometime during winter. He just needs to make sure no one sees him if he relapses. If someone saw him like that… the only one who’s come close is Felix, and that was involuntary. 

Speaking of Felix, the swordsman is standing in front of a dummy when Sylvain pushes open the door to the training grounds. He’s illuminated by moonlight. Sylvain freezes in the doorway, internally debating whether or not to walk out and pretend he was never here. Then Felix turns toward him and Sylvain’s heart pounds in his chest. _Fuck, fuck, fuck-_

“What the hell are you doing here?” Felix’s voice is sharp and demanding. Sylvain almost feels comforted by it. Unfortunately, the pounding his chest has translated into his headache hurting worse than before. He grinds his teeth for a moment, trying to focus.

“I was coming to train. That’s what the training grounds are for, Felix.” He keeps his voice light, daring to step forward. The door closes behind him. Felix scoffs.

“It’s 1 in the morning. You should be asleep.”

“Aww, Felix,” Sylvain teases, trying to ignore how that’s Felix’s way of asking _”are you ok?”_ , “you really do care. Actually, I just woke up. I wanted to get some work in to tire me out.”

“You just woke up?” _Shit, I shouldn’t have told him that._ Felix is frowning at him. Sylvain shrugs.

“Yeah, I took a nap after dinner,” he lies easily.

“I didn’t see you at dinner.”

“I mean, to be fair, you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks. I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me.” The words tumble out before he can stop them and Sylvain instantly regrets them. Goddamnit, this was really not how he wanted to try and apologise to Felix.

Felix just huffs, looking away from him. “That’s your fault, you know.”

Sylvain’s heart twists in his chest. “Yeah, I… I know. I’ve been trying to apologise but you keep running off.”

“Well, I’m here now. Explain what the fuck is wrong with you.” Felix doesn’t look at him as he spits the words out. Sylvain sighs. He knows that Felix is right, that there’s something deeply wrong ingrained in him, but it still hurts to hear him say it out loud. Goddess, how could he go about this?

“I… Felix, I’m so sorry. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me-” lie, “That’s never happened before-” lie, “and I wish you hadn’t seen it. I don’t even remember all of what I said-” lie, “but I’m sure it… wasn’t good. I don’t know, I just got so… angry, I guess. I know you have plenty of reason to hate me, but I just want things to go back to normal between us. I understand completely if you’re scared, or angry, or upset- I really, truly do. I just…” he turns away from Felix, closing his eyes. His head is _killing_ him, and there’s an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach aside from nausea that he doesn’t like.

“I just hope that you can start to forgive me. I don’t know if it’ll happen again. I can’t tell you that everything’s fine again. But I want to… I want to be your friend again, Felix. I want to be able to talk to you.”

There’s silence behind him. Sylvain sighs, turning back around. “Look, I’ll go. I don’t-”

“You’re lying,” Felix interrupts. Sylvain blinks.

“Sorry?”

“If you want me to trust you again, don’t lie to my face. It happened after I told you to go find a girl.” Sylvain feels his stomach drop. “You’re sick of me calling you out on your habits,” Felix continues, “and it made you lash out at me. It’s happened before with Ingrid. She told me.”

Sylvain swallows. He hadn’t expected Felix to call his bluff, and he _especially_ hadn’t expected that he would pinpoint the moment that set Sylvain off. His headache grows and he winces slightly. Felix is watching him, waiting for a response.

“I… ok, you got me.” Sylvain puts his hands up. Felix isn’t entirely wrong, but he also isn’t entirely right. Sylvain isn’t eager for him to know the whole truth, so he continues, “I guess it’s more of a sore subject than I realised. It’s just… this is my life, y’know? I’ve been told my whole life that my worth is dictated by my Crest. It feels like a bit of freedom to be able to choose who I want to be with each day. And… I guess I don’t appreciate it when my best friend reduces that freedom into something that’s more important than him.”

That’s mostly true, he thinks. Or at least, it used to be. Then it turned into escapism and a way to make others yell at him, but Felix didn’t need to know that.

Felix regards him for a moment, then snorts. “Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me that outright.”

Sylvain almost smiles. Felix cuts through his bullshit so easily. It’s one of his many merits. “Yeah. I’m not good at being honest. I’m sure you’ve noticed that over the years.”

“Mhm.”

They stand in silence for a few minutes. Sylvain regards Felix in the moonlight. It makes his hair shine in a truly ethereal way. He’s so pale that he almost glows, standing with his arms crossed in the middle of the training grounds. His eyes drop to travel over his friend’s body. As his eyes flit across Felix’s chest, he frowns.

“You’re wearing your binder.” It’s not a question. He lifts his eyes to stare into Felix’s, who shrugs.

“So?”

“Felix, you know that’s unhealthy. Besides, it’s the middle of the night! No one’s going to come in and see if you don’t have it on.”

“And yet here you are.” Felix’s eyes bore into him. Sylvain shivers.

“Just because you weren’t born in a male body doesn’t mean you’re not male, Felix. That’s the body you have. You need to take care of it. I know it’s hard to feel wrong just for existing, but you’re just going to hurt yourself in the end. You can’t train if you’re passed out, you know?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “I don’t give a shit. Pick up a lance, I’m bored.”

Of course he didn’t listen. Sylvain watches him for a few more seconds before giving in. He’s being selfish, he knows. But Goddess, he longs for the normality that sparring with Felix brings. He thinks for a moment that the physical exertion is going to worsen his headache and maybe cause him to throw up, but he shrugs the thought away. He’ll deal with it for Felix’s sake.

They spar. It’s not even remotely close- Felix is stronger than ever and Sylvain is at a distinct disadvantage due to his hangover. After Felix disarms Sylvain for the fourth time, he steps back and frowns, watching as Sylvain fights against the nausea that’s rising in his throat.

“You’re hungover,” he says.

Sylvain takes a few deep breaths. His hands are shaking as he stoops to pick up his lance again. “And?”

“You realise we have a mission today, right? And now you’re practically incapacitated?” Sylvain flinches. Felix sounds angrier than he has so far today.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m trying to wear myself out. So I can go back to sleep and hopefully be over it by the morning.” He shrugs, trying to play off his discomfort. His breath is coming quick and fast.

Felix yanks his lance out of his hands and crosses the training ground to put it away, ignoring Sylvain’s words of protest. He stalks back over to Sylvain and pushes him back toward the door.

“Go to bed.” He stares at Sylvain for a moment before he makes a sound of frustration. “Do you need me to take you to your room?”

Sylvain, caught off guard, nods. He doesn’t know when, but he ends up leaning against Felix as he guides him to the dormitories. Felix says nothing, leading him patiently up the stairs to the second floor. They arrive in front of Sylvain’s door. Felix pushes the door open and lets Sylvain stumble inside. His head is swimming. He’s not quite sure why. He collapses on his bed, closing his eyes. 

He vaguely feels someone pulling off his boots and tugging a blanket over him before he fades into the darkness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:  
> oh boy, time for a mission next chapter. i'm so worried about writing the fight scene, lmao. i've never written anything like that before unless you count the, like, three paragraphs at the beginning of chapter 1.
> 
> talk to me about fe3h on instagram [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/maximus.artimus/). there's a bit of yuri art too, if you're into that.
> 
> see you in the next update! :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:  
> descriptions of violence typical of canon

Sylvain is probably the dumbest person that Felix has ever met.

Getting drunk the day before a mission? A mission where he would have to take human life? It’s completely idiotic. Sylvain is doubtless going to wind up with some unnecessary injury because he’s still hungover.

It’s ridiculous, Felix thinks as he settles into bed. _He’s_ ridiculous. Felix still can’t believe that he tucked Sylvain into bed. He doesn’t know what came over him; what possessed him to support his friend from the training grounds to the dormitories and then _into his bed_. He must be going insane.

Felix turns on his side, pushing his hair out of his face. He stares at the wall. Sylvain had looked at him in the training grounds with something akin to… hunger. It’s gnawing at his insides, that look, spurring both an intense hatred and deep warmth in his stomach. He knows that look; it’s the look Sylvain gets whenever he sees a girl pass by that he wants to bed. For Felix to see that look directed at himself… well, it’s bringing up feelings that he didn’t know existed.

For one, he’s angry. So _goddamn_ angry that Sylvain would _dare_ to look at him like he was a hookup, a distraction, an _ounce of freedom_ or whatever the hell Sylvain justified it as. Felix doesn’t know exactly how Sylvain spends his time with women, but he’s gotten a pretty good idea from the whispers around the monastery. He wonders if Sylvain tries to charm them, invite them to a romantic outing before he springs. Or maybe he’s more direct, simply flirting with an obvious inclination of his motives. Whatever he does, it seems to work well enough to get girls into his bed and then immediately out of his life when they realise that’s all he wanted. Was that Sylvain’s intention when he looked at Felix like that? To give him a hint that he doesn’t really care? To subtly tell Felix that he didn’t want him anymore? Or, worse, what if Sylvain didn’t realise he looked at him like that? What if he didn’t see Felix at all- just saw a warm body for him to fuck? The thought made Felix pull his blankets tighter around him, squeezing his eyes shut. Goddess, both of those options were disastrous.

Aside from why Sylvain looked at him like that, there’s also the issue that he placed Felix in with a group of _exclusively girls_. That look was confirmation for him; Sylvain doesn’t, and will never, accept Felix as trans. He knew it before- it was in the back of his mind, whispering to him that even his closest friend didn’t really see him- but he tried to hold out hope. With one look, Sylvain shattered that hope and sent the pieces scattering across the training grounds. Felix was foolish for holding out hope this long, anyway. The only person who really, truly understood is dead. He needs to stop putting his faith in people who haven’t proven themselves to him.

But the problem is that Sylvain _has_ proven himself to Felix, time and time again. He’s come to Felix’s defense more times than he can count, he’s always made time for Felix, he’s never outright said a _word_ to suggest that he didn’t accept Felix’s identity. And yet, Felix can’t help but doubt. Can’t help but push away the best friend he’s ever had. Can’t help but think back to Sylvain’s cold eyes boring into his own, issuing a silent challenge.

So, Felix thinks as he turns onto his other side, what was it about Sylvain that rubs him so far the wrong way? And why has he continued to allow Sylvain into his life for so long despite it? He’s looked past Sylvain’s… hobbies, he’s looked past how he never applies himself, he’s looked past the way Sylvain’s eyes follow their professor. Why? Is it just that Sylvain was one of his first friends, and Felix is scared of change? Does he truly care about Sylvain in a way that he hasn’t yet realised? _Goddess, I hope not._

Felix lets out a quiet groan, burying his face into his pillow. He’s really not one for introspection. He has to focus on training, after all- but tonight, he doesn’t feel like going back to the training grounds. He’ll just see Sylvain. Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain. Goddess, he can’t get him out of his head, can he?

When he eventually drifts off to sleep, he dreams of the colour red.

Felix wakes up to a knock at his door. “Felix! We depart for Zanado in thirty minutes. Please make sure to eat!”

Dimitri. Of course. Felix scowls to himself, sitting up slowly. He can’t believe he overslept- on the eve of their first real mission, no less! He allows himself to feel excited as he hastily pulls on clothes. The first real mission. Finally, opponents worthy of crossing his blade with.

Felix briefly thinks of Dimitri again as he strides to the dining hall. How is the boar going to react to shedding blood today? He wonders if he’ll see the beast’s true face again: contorted, manic, pure _evil_. He shudders slightly as he remembers it. Blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, pale skin covered in blood. He’d screamed at Dimitri on the battlefield, but blue eyes just stared past him. Now, when Felix sits in the dining hall to eat quickly before their mission, he avoids those eyes even as he feels them bore into his neck.

He walks, rather than ride, with the others to Zanado. Nearly everyone else is on horseback, but Felix keeps up just fine. Annoyingly enough, Sylvain seems to keep close to him no matter how stubbornly Felix ignores him. Eventually, he’s fed up.

“What do you want?” he snaps after Sylvain glances over at him for the third time in the past minute. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but Felix doubts it’s sincere.

“Hey there, Felix. Looking good today. Did you do something different with your hair?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He can’t believe Sylvain. The compliment causes his face to burn and his insides to twist uncomfortably. Goddess, he can’t stand it. “Spit it out or get away from me.”

“Ok, ok! Look, I’m just... I’m really sorry. About everything that I’ve done recently. And I guess… also about everything that I’ve done in the past that’s ever pissed you off.” Sylvain sounds genuinely apologetic, but Felix isn’t buying it.

“That’s too long of a list for one apology,” he deadpans. Sylvain lets out a sound between a sigh and a laugh. It sounds… sad, almost. Why the hell is Sylvain sad? He’s the one who fucked up in the first place.

“Yeah, I know. But just one is a start, right?” There’s a plea in his voice.

“I suppose,” Felix acquiesces, if only because the tone Sylvain used causes a pang in his heart. And when he looks up and sees the grin that lights up his friend’s face, he feels something warm in his chest.

They arrive in Zanado before the sun has fully risen. It makes sense- Zanado is right next to the monastery, after all. They gather near the entrance to the canyon and Felix finds himself standing next to Sylvain without realising it. Ingrid shoots him a curious look, but he ignores her.

“The Knights of Seiros will enter the canyon first,” Byleth begins. Dimitri stands at her side, his eyes flitting over each member of the Blue Lions. Felix feels a strange iciness run through him when his eyes meet Dimitri’s. The prince looks away quickly. “Once they clear the majority of the bandits, we will follow in after them. Remember, this is no mock battle. You will draw blood today. I know that none of you have expressed disinterest in this mission, but now is your last chance. There will be no judgment if you cannot bring yourself to take human life and would rather guard the camp.”

Her eyes sweep over their faces. No one speaks up.

“I… expect that it will be difficult for some of you to deal the finishing blow,” Dimitri speaks now. His face is contorted in an expression that, to the untrained eye, would read as remorse. Felix knows better. “Know that there is no shame in being uncomfortable in killing. To be honest, I… I would feel a little uneasy if any of you felt nothing after ending someone’s life. However, do try to remember that ending these lives will ultimately save more. These bandits have killed and pillaged, and it is our duty as members of the Officers Academy to protect the citizens of Fódlan.”

It would be a decent speech, but Felix can’t help himself from snorting. Byleth’s eyes lock on him.

“Please, boar. Don’t twist your face up in sorrow. I know you’re itching to get out there. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten blood on your hands, hasn’t it?” He stares into Dimitri’s eyes, not quite able to discern his expression. He can feel the tension around them, but he doesn’t care. He wants Dimitri to snap. He wants everyone to see the beast that he knows lies just beneath the surface of the crown prince.

“Felix, you mustn't speak to His Highness like that-” Ingrid begins, but Felix cuts her off.

“I’ll speak to the boar prince however I damn please.” He huffs and turns away. “Call me when we’re about to head in.”

He stalks away before anyone can protest too much. There’s a fire starting in his veins. He itches for combat, for a worthy opponent, for the rush of wind in his ears as he moves across a battlefield. A thought crosses his mind briefly that _maybe I’m the same as the boar_ , but he pushes it out of his mind. He doesn’t have time to think like that. In mere minutes, he’ll have blood on his hands.

Felix is running his fingers over the blade of his sword when Byleth calls them to attention. He stands, fingers gripping his sword’s hilt, a strange pulse of excitement shooting through him. Finally, real enemies; real, tangible opponents that he’ll be able to definitively beat. Things like his dysphoria or strained relationship with Sylvain, he has to work to fix. Bandits, though? A slash of his sword and they’ll be gone. The thought makes him smile to himself as he follows Byleth’s orders into the canyon.

Felix watches as Annette and Ingrid work together to fell an enemy. Annette deals the killing blow, and as the magic fades from her hands, Felix sees her stricken expression. His stomach turns, thoughts torn between _poor girl, she should have kept her innocence_ and _coward, can’t handle a little blood?_ He tries to shake the thoughts. _Focus!_

He blinks and thinks he sees Sylvain in the corner of his eye. He turns, just in time to see a sword pierce through his friend’s chest.

Before he can even scream, he blinks again and Sylvain’s fine. Felix’s heart pounds. He distantly hears Byleth shout for him to cover Sylvain. His legs move automatically. He sees a bandit run towards Sylvain. Felix’s sword comes up. The bandit’s sword flies away from him and Felix doesn’t hesitate before stabbing his sword forward. It sinks into the bandit’s chest with little resistance. Felix pulls his sword back, watching with disdain as the bandit’s body collapses on the ground.

“Finished already? I was hoping for more of a challenge,” he murmurs to himself as he turns to check on Sylvain. His friend watches him with an unreadable expression. “Are you unhurt?”

“Felix, I-”

“Duck!” Felix shouts suddenly. Sylvain does, and Felix swings his sword over his friend’s head. His blade connects with an enemy lance, pushing it away from the two of them. Felix quickly moves past Sylvain, parrying attacks. He hisses _”weak”_ when his sword meets its mark across the bandit’s chest.

“Felix!” Sylvain shouts. 

Felix spins back around. Sylvain sinks his lance into an enemy’s abdomen. The bandit splutters. Blood bubbles past his lips as he sinks to his knees. Felix watches Sylvain bring his lance up and back down with a sickening _crack_. His friend’s expression contorts in pain.

“I had to do it,” Sylvain mutters to himself, stepping back from the bandit. “Don’t hate me, please.”

Sylvain seems like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else. His eyes lift up from the body. They meet Felix’s and he realises that Sylvain’s expression has become eerily similar to the one that he wore that day in Felix’s room.

Sylvain turns on his heel and rushes into combat. Felix sprints after him, thoughts racing. _Fuck, come back! He’s going to do something, he’s going to hurt himself, he’s going to-_

He’s stopped by two bandits. Their swords clash and Felix grits his teeth. His desperation is showing in his technique, and one of the bandits huffs out a laugh as he attacks.

“Aw, buddy, look at her. She’s all worn out.” He then addresses Felix directly, “don’t you know that ladies like you oughta stay in the kitchen? It’s much nicer there, and-”

Felix feels disgust, hatred, seething _fury_ blind him. He lifts his sword up and brings it down on the bandit’s head with all of his might. The familiar power of his Crest surges through his blood as he gazes down at the bandit, a slight smirk on his face. 

“That’ll teach you to call me a girl,” he hisses. He then turns to the other thief, who looks rightfully terrified. Felix grins.

“U-uh, sir, I- I-” he stammers.

Felix brings his sword down on the second bandit. Blood splatters on his face and he absentmindedly wipes it off with the back of his hand as he glances around the battlefield. Everyone seems to be doing well. He locks eyes with Dimitri for a split second and sees the way the prince’s eyes flit across his face. Whatever. He doesn’t care what the boar thinks of him. He counts his allies: Dedue and Ashe, Mercedes and Annette, Ingrid and Byleth… everyone seems to be accounted for.

Wait.

Byleth lets out a shout, _“Sylvain! Get back here!”_ and Felix whips his head around.

Sylvain is facing down four bandits with a broken lance. His voice is a couple of pitches higher than normal when he shouts back, “I’d love to, Professor, but I’m in a bit of a rough spot here!”

_Goddamnit, goddamnit, GODDAMNIT!_ How could he be so stupid? He’d taken his eyes off Sylvain for five seconds- if that!- and now… Fucking hell, he’s going to kill Sylvain if he dies!

“Dimitri, Felix, Ingrid, forward! Ashe, Mercedes, Annette, back them up! Dedue, flank left! I’ll take right.” Byleth’s orders come quickly. Before she’s even done speaking, Felix charges forward and shoves Sylvain to the side.

“Get back, idiot. I’ll kill you if you die,” he hisses. He knows that Dimitri and Ingrid are right behind him, so he wastes no time in engaging the first bandit. Sylvain seems to have an ounce of common sense, for the first time maybe ever, since he retreats as soon as he’s able to.

It feels… nice, fighting next to Dimitri and Ingrid. He’s experienced so many emotions today- hell, even just since arriving at Zanado- and goddamnit, he just wants to let go, at least for a minute. And he does. He lets his mind go blank of all except the battlefield, the clang of metal on metal, the familiar scent of dirt and sweat. It’s almost blissful. The three of them move so naturally together, like they’re part of the same being. It’s like a dance, Felix thinks as he ducks to allow Dimitri’s lance over his head. They’re performing a waltz like they’ve rehearsed it a thousand times. He straightens up and stabs his sword forward. Ingrid’s arm comes up to allow his blade through. It’s comforting, familiar… ironically, Felix feels the most at peace he has in a while.

But it’s over too soon. Byleth deals the final blow to the bandit leader- Kostas, Felix recalls- and the Knights of Seiros handle the remaining stragglers. Bodies litter the canyon. Felix sheathes his bloody sword and walks between the corpses. Weak, pathetic bandits. He doesn’t care about honour or chivalry, but stooping to murder and thievery? That’s laughable. The bandits deserved what they got.

Felix stops at the body of the bandit who called him a lady. He crouches next to the corpse. “Pathetic,” he murmurs, observing the man’s crushed skull. Blood still seeps out of the gashes in his body. He pushes the man’s head to the side, taking in the gory carnage. “Never underestimate me. Bitch.”

The body gives him a sense of satisfaction that he didn’t know he was craving. It’s a feeling of gleeful retribution. This man called him a girl, blatantly demeaned the entire female gender, and he _paid for it._ Felix chuckles lightly to himself, then stands. For good measure, he kicks the bloody head. It feels nice.

He turns and his eyes meet Sylvain’s. Sylvain looks apprehensive, concerned… scared? Felix can’t quite tell. It’s impossible to pick the truth from the lies with Sylvain anyway. And now that he’s here…

“You’re a fucking dumbass,” he spits. Sylvain sighs.

“Look, Felix, I-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You choke me out and act insane, don’t bother explaining yourself for two weeks, then get drunk on the eve of a mission and nearly get yourself fucking killed! You’re the most self-important martyr I’ve ever met. What do you suppose we would have done if the professor hadn’t spotted your idiocy in time? Or if I hadn’t been there to save your ass from that bandit at the beginning of the battle?” Felix crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Sylvain.

Sylvain opens his mouth, then closes it. Felix raises an eyebrow. “You have nothing to say? Then I’m done here. The professor’s waiting for us.”

He turns on his heel and stalks toward the rest of the Blue Lions, ignoring the feeling of Sylvain’s eyes on the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:  
> i threw in a bit of divine pulse just for fun, i don't really plan on including byleth's powers and shit in this fic. it just served to show felix's concern for sylvain.  
> i'm a little worried that i'm making felix sound like a serial killer tbh. or maybe i've just been binging too much criminal minds during quarantine. who knows?  
> there's some fiesty felix art on my instagram: [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/maximus.artimus/)  
> see you in the next update! :P


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:  
> suicidal thoughts  
> descriptions of dissociation  
> underage drinking  
> implied sexual content

On the way back to the monastery, Sylvain has plenty of time to ponder his idiocy. It just seems like he can’t do anything right. Felix’s words echo in his head the entire ride. _You’re the most self-important martyr I’ve ever met._

It stings. Especially because Sylvain is probably the _least_ self-important person he knows. Goddess, he can’t think of the last time he acted in accordance with his own desires, excluding every time he’d sought out fleeting distractions. When was the last time he’d truly sought out something for himself, to make himself happy, to better himself? He can’t figure it out- and besides, he hadn’t been truly happy in years. He can’t remember the last time he felt unrestrained jubilation. Goddess, what is _wrong_ with him?

There must be something. Something deeply, innately wrong, Sylvain thinks. 

He’s staring straight ahead, controlling his horse on muscle memory alone. He’s unaware of the quiet conversation around him. Though, to be fair, everyone has been quiet since they left Zanado. Everyone is probably caught up in their own thoughts about killing.

He didn’t feel anything when he killed his first bandit. Nor his second. In fact, he only felt _anything_ when he brought his lance down on a third bandit’s head knowing that Felix was watching him. He only felt the pain, the disgust, the shame when his closest friend witnessed him end a human life. That, in and of itself, proves that there is something wrong. Right? No normal person felt nothing when they _killed another person_.

Mercedes tries to talk to him at some point. Sylvain doesn’t really register her words and she backs off after saying something about being there for him if he ever needs her. He just nods and she moves away to talk to someone else. No doubt to ask if they were ok, too. Goddess, Mercedes is an angel. 

So unlike himself.

They return to the monastery at dusk. Byleth dismisses them for the rest of the weekend, telling them to take time to recuperate, or something. Sylvain leaves the classroom at the first opportunity. He already knows what he’s going to do, eventually. He should at least clean himself up first.

Sylvain’s feet carry him to the washrooms of their own accord. A few other students are on their way, too- Ashe, Dimitri, and Annette, he sees. He doesn’t engage in conversation. He would only fuck things up if he opened his mouth to talk. The bathhouse is large, intimidating, but Sylvain steps inside anyway, finding the most isolated washroom he can.

He sinks into a bath, relishing in the solitude. Finally, a moment alone. A moment to just _breathe_. A moment of respite, of pure physical sensation. Cool water against his skin, his hands slowly scrubbing dried blood off. Sylvain focuses on the simple feeling of touch. It’s comforting, to focus entirely on something and resist his wandering mind. He knows what will happen if he begins to think, and so he doesn’t.

Or at least, he tries not to. A few peaceful moments pass by, but then the thoughts begin to beat on the inside of his skull with a vengeance. _So much blood, none of it my own. I wonder what Felix thought when he saw me bring a lance down on a real person’s head. I think I broke that guy’s skull, or something. Maybe I did, or maybe not. I hope Felix doesn’t hate me. Goddess, what if he hates me? I mean, he’s said he has before. But he never means it, right? Like he says he hates Dimitri? But what if he really does hate Dimitri? He calls him a boar, a beast, but I’m the real animal of our friend group. I changed again, didn’t I? I let the feelings take over. I can’t control it though, right? It’s not my fault, right? I can’t help it._

 _Fuck, stop!_ Sylvain pinches his thigh, the brief pain bringing him out of his thoughts. Just one thought, and then the torrent of them wouldn’t stop. He has to do _something, anything_. The thoughts only subside when he’s too distracted to think. But he was doing fine in silence for a few minutes, so why can’t he just go back to that? Maybe it’s because his brain is fucked up, _he’s_ fucked up, _you’re just a disappointment with a Crest, maybe your family would love you if you did anything to prove that you were worthy of love. Maybe anyone at all would care about you if you gave them a reason to. Maybe, maybe, maybe you should drown yourself or I’ll do it for you, and you wouldn’t want to inconvenience me, I’m very busy after all, too busy to waste my time on a waste of space like you. And maybe fuck shut up shut UP SHUT UP SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!_

Sylvain realises that he’s curled into a ball in the bath, his head barely above the water. He briefly thinks about dipping under the surface and letting the water take him, but… well, he doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Someone would end up finding his body, and that might traumatise them. _And I don’t want anyone going through a traumatic experience, do I? Not when I could take them all. I’m the one who deserves it._

Maybe he should go to the bridge by the cathedral. It’s pretty there, after all- one body wouldn’t disturb the view that much. Maybe he should leave the monastery entirely so that there is absolutely no risk of someone finding his body soon. Or maybe he should just go find a girl to get rid of the thoughts that constantly plague him. It’s what he usually does, after all.

The water feels very far away, suddenly. It’s a bit odd, but nothing that Sylvain hasn’t felt before. He sighs, the sound muffled, and finishes washing himself off. It’s like there’s a barrier between his hands and his skin as he washes, but when he looks, there’s definitely contact. He can’t bring himself to care, though. He’ll just deal with the unnatural feeling until it goes away.

Everything still feels strange when Sylvain eventually rises from his bath and begins to dry off. The texture of the towel against him feels so _wrong_ , and the cool tile of the washroom against his feet feels like it’s… separated? He’s not sure how to describe it. Maybe his body is doing just fine, connecting with the world in a perfectly normal way. Maybe it’s just his brain that feels like it’s floating. Maybe he’s just watching himself move from an outsider’s perspective. But he can’t quite tell. He might be seeing what’s right in front of him, or he might be seeing himself move in a quiet washroom. He’s not sure. And really, he doesn’t care to think about it too hard.

By the time Sylvain exits the bathhouse, he’s forgotten about his plans to visit the bridge by the cathedral. The moon casts a lovely light on the monastery. Sylvain smiles to himself, very faintly. It’s truly beautiful. 

Then he remembers why he’s here at night, why his hair is still wet from a bath, and his smile fades. _I don’t deserve to look at this beauty,_ he thinks, and keeps his eyes on the ground as he continues to walk.

It’s a battle to keep familiar thoughts from creeping back into his head. Miklan’s voice is scathing, but it's tinged with a sort of honesty that makes Sylvain accept every word he says. Sometimes his father’s voice joins his brother’s, and sometimes his mother’s, and sometimes Felix’s and Ingrid’s and Dimitri’s, and sometimes there’s every girl he’s ever broken up with, and Sylvain bites his lip until he draws blood because _he can’t fucking handle this, not right now, just please give me one night, just fucking leave me alone!_

He doesn’t realise it at first when he bumps into someone outside the Golden Deer classroom. The sensation takes a second to register, and when it does, Sylvain’s head snaps up and he begins apologising entirely too profusely.

“Whoa, easy there, buddy! It’s alright, I don’t blame you.”

Sylvain stops in his apology and blinks as green eyes stare at him. Claude’s eyes are… beautiful, he’ll admit, but something about them makes him uneasy. Like they see right through him, like they know exactly what’s going on in his head.

Claude continues, “so don’t worry. Hey, you just got back from Zanado, right? How was it? Hunting down bandits, I mean.”

Sylvain doesn’t allow himself to flinch. “Oh, it was alright.” He waves a hand, taking a step back so he’s a normal distance from Claude. “A bit rough, I’ll admit, but the Blue Lions are a tough bunch. It’ll take more than a few bandits to take us down.”

He forces a smile onto his face, hoping it doesn’t look too fake. Claude’s eyes tell him that he doesn’t believe it for a second, but he merely hums.

“That so? Well, you do have Teach on your side. She’s a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.”

Sylvain nods and they fall into silence. Neither speaks up, but neither moves away. They simply stand, regarding each other carefully. It’s Claude who ends up breaking the standstill.

“Say, would you like to come up for tea? I know I’d like something to relax with after a battle like that.” His tone is easy, his smile charming, and Sylvain finds himself nodding.

“Yeah, that’d be nice. I haven’t actually had the chance to eat since getting back.”

“Oh? Then I’ll swipe something from the dining hall, too. You know where my room is, right? Three doors down from you, on the other side of Felix. Settle in while I get stuff. Oh, and try not to touch any bottles you see.” Claude winks at him before vanishing in the direction of the dining hall, and Sylvain takes a deep, shaky breath.

What the hell did he just get himself into? He knows exactly how tricky Claude is- the other makes no attempt to hide his scheming tendencies- and he’s just agreed to eat and drink in his room. Well, Claude wouldn’t drug him. Right? Probably. Sylvain could probably use the forced sleep, anyway.

He finds Claude’s room easily, but doesn’t enter it immediately. Instead, he walks quietly to his own room and makes sure it’s locked. He double-checks it, turns to walk back toward Claude’s room, then turns around and checks it twice more. Just to be sure, right? Wait, maybe… 

Sylvain hastily unlocks the door, pushes inside, and searches every corner of his room. Under the bed, in his dresser, under the covers, behind the door, under his desk- everywhere he can think of. Everything seems to be as he left it. He sighs in relief. He exits his room again and locks the door behind him, checking it three times before he’s satisfied. When he returns to Claude’s room and pushes the door open, he finds the house leader sitting on his bed.

Claude looks up from a book in his lap and raises an eyebrow. “There you are. I was beginning to worry you’d stood me up!”

“Sorry,” Sylvain says automatically, closing the door behind him. He fights with himself for a moment, but- _fuck, he just can’t help it_ \- he ends up locking the door. And checking it a few times. He knows Claude is watching him, and Miklan’s voice threatens the corners of his mind, but Sylvain pushes him away. _I’m locking the door to keep you OUT, dammit!_

When he turns back to Claude, he makes no comment on Syvlain’s odd behaviour. Instead, he gestures to a few bowls with tea leaves.

“What’s your preference? I’m pretty indifferent myself, so pick whatever. Chamomile, ginger, bergamot, and Almyran pine.” He points to each bowl as he lists the tea.

“Bergamot would be lovely,” Sylvain smiles. Just being with another person, talking- it’s _almost_ enough to quiet the murmurs in his head, but not quite. Claude nods, pushing the other three bowls to the side, before hesitating.

“So… you wouldn’t happen to know a bit of fire magic, would you? I’m running low on matches.” Claude looks away, a bit sheepish, and Sylvain’s smile shifts into something just a bit more genuine. _Guess the professor’s insistence I look at black magic is actually coming in handy._

“Actually, I do. The professor insisted I learn some, though I still don’t know why,” he replies.

Claude gestures to the kettle he’s set over a small bit of wood. “Then, be my guest.”

Sylvain nods and kneels next to the kettle, focusing his energy into the incantation of a simple fire spell. He’s not great at this stuff, he’ll admit, but it’s enough. A small spark erupts from his fingertips to the wood, and with a bit more effort, a contained fire begins under the kettle. Sylvain sits back, proud of himself for the first time in a while, and looks back over at Claude.

Claude sets his book aside and moves to join Sylvain on the floor. “Sorry for the mess, by the way. I, uh… don’t tend to clean up that much.” One of his hands moves behind his next and he offers an apologetic smile. Sylvain just waves.

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ll admit that I’m not the neatest person myself,” he lies. Actually, he organises very meticulously, but he prefers that others not know that. It’s much easier if he puts on the persona of a dumb, messy philanderer. Much easier.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Claude laughs lightly. He learns back against his bed and crosses his legs, observing Sylvain with those green eyes that see so much.

“So…” Sylvain leans back as well, resting his back against Claude’s desk. “I chose bergamot, but what’s your favourite tea? You must have some sort of preference.”

Goddess, he’s an idiot. Making small talk about tea? Really? Claude only shrugs.

“I’m a fan of bergamot as well. So, tell me, if I were to imply that I have some… other beverages with me, would you take that well?”

Sylvain cocks an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitches up. Leave it to Claude to sneak some alcohol into his room. “I would have no problems with that.”

Claude chuckles. “I didn’t think so. I’ll be honest, I invited you up under the guise of teatime, but I really just wanted someone to share this with.” And from under a pile of books near his bed, Claude pulls out a nearly full bottle of whisky. Sylvain lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, Claude, where’d you get your hands on that? It looks expensive.” But he’s leaning forward, smirking at the house leader.

“The heir of house Riegan is privy to many things, Sylvain,” Claude teases, then pushes him back with his free hand. “Calm yourself. You can put that fire out, if you want. I don’t actually like bergamot.”

Sylvain rolls his eyes, but waves his hand and the flames go out. Claude reaches under his bed and pulls out two glasses, offering one to Sylvain. He takes it and watches as Claude pours for himself, then pours into Sylvain’s cup. The aroma of whisky hits him as he lifts the glass to his mouth.

Claude raises his own glass to his mouth, but neither drink, opting instead to make eye contact for entirely too long. Sylvain cracks a smile and tips his glass back- Claude does too- and swallows some of the sweet liquid. It burns as it goes down his throat and settles in his chest pleasantly. He sets his glass down, resisting a shiver.

“Well, von Riegan, you’ve certainly got your hands on some quality liquor,” he smiles, the aftertaste lingering in his mouth like a sweet kiss. Claude chuckles, lowering his own drink.

“I have, haven’t I?”

They continue to drink and talk until their glasses are empty and their faces are flushed. The alcohol has swept away any thoughts of battle, of Miklan, of Felix- or maybe it was Claude’s presence that did those things, or maybe both. Regardless, Sylvain finds himself… happy. Not outrageously happy by any means, but he’s comfortable. And he sinks further into that feeling the closer he shifts to Claude.

“You know, Gautier,” Claude’s smile is dopy, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy up in my room before. How’s it- how’s it feel to be the first?”

Sylvain’s head rests against Claude’s shoulder and he laughs lightly, donning his best Lorenz impression, “I am ever so honoured, Lord Riegan, to be the first- the very first man alone with you in your room. May I have the privilege of asking if there have been…” he drops his voice to a scandalous whisper, “ _girls?_ ”

They both dissolve into a fit of giggles. By the end of it, Claude’s arm is draped across Sylvain’s shoulders, and Sylvain is halfway into Claude’s lap. It’s nice. Really nice, actually.

Oh, _fuck._

Claude’s hand cups his chin, and he leans forward to whisper into Sylvain’s ear, “A few. But really, I think it’s more important if my guest comes into my bed.”

Claude punctuates this with a feather-light kiss on his jaw, and Sylvain’s _gone_.

By the end of the night, he discovers that Claude is the best kind of sloppy lover and that he lets out a beautifully low laugh when Sylvain gasps in need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:  
> is there a name for the claude/sylvain ship? claudevain? sylaude? idk. we were robbed of any supports between the two of them, so goddamnit am i make up for that. by having them hook up, i guess lmao. don't worry, this is still a sylvix fic.
> 
> speaking of claude, i just finished a portrait of him. it's on my instagram [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/maximus.artimus/)  
> .
> 
> see you in the next update! :P


	7. Chapter 7

Sylvain and Claude have been spending more time together since Zanado, not that Felix cares.

It’s just weird, ok? He’s barely seen the two of them interact before, and now he’s spotted them together at least once a day. His gut tells him that something’s up, but his brain tells him that he shouldn’t care in the first place. So he doesn’t say anything.

The thing is, today’s Sylvain’s birthday. And he’s watching Claude present Sylvain with a garland of white roses. And it stings, a little. Why? Felix isn’t sure, so chooses to ignore the feeling in favour of leaving the two alone. His feet carry him to the greenhouse and he finds himself staring at a bush teeming with white roses. Should he?...

No, he decides. That would be idiotic. And he doesn’t care, anyway. Sylvain can spend his time with whomever he wants. It’s not Felix’s place to judge.

Whatever. It’s still Sylvain’s birthday and Felix is supposed to get him a gift. That’s what friends do. Sure, their relationship as friends has been… _strained_ lately, to put it lightly, but he has to get Sylvain _something_. There’s an odd sense of finality in the idea of him choosing to not get him anything. Like that action would push their years of friendship aside, create a rift that neither would be able to fix.

Felix has an hour until him, Dimitri, Ingrid, and Sylvain are supposed to meet for dinner together. It’s tradition, the three insist. Felix doesn’t really care for such gatherings, but he’s willing to indulge his friends. Ok, fine, he does care. A little.

He decides to head to the marketplace. He can pick up a new lance, maybe. Sylvain would probably like something superficial and pretty, something that would help him pick up girls, but Felix refuses to encourage his habits. Besides, he’s a practical person. Weapons are _actually_ useful, unlike… new flashy clothes, or something. 

As he browses weapons in the marketplace, Felix allows his mind to wander. He wonders if the customers around him see him as male or female. He wonders if he’ll ever be confident in his body, his appearance, and then he wonders if there’s anyone else like him. Surely, he can’t be the only one. If he is, well… he prefers to be alone anyway.

Right?

But there’s something so… _isolating_ about the idea of being the only trans person he knows of. There must be others. He found a book in the Fraldarius library when he was young that helped him understand what he was feeling. If there was a book, there had to be people like him before. He’s not alone, Felix tells himself. There are people out there, somewhere, who understand. He wonders where they are; he wonders if there could be any others at Garreg Mach.

But _Goddess_ , does he feel alone. He’s tried his best to train, to build up muscle, to do anything he could think of to feel masculine, but… it’s not enough. It’s never enough. No matter what he does, he still has a female body. And no matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the feeling that people don’t think _boy_ when they see him.

Felix settles on a sheath that will fit the head of Sylvain’s favourite lance. It’s red, almost identical to the colour of Sylvain’s hair, so maybe he’ll appreciate the aesthetic. Because he probably won’t appreciate the practical use. Felix isn’t quite sure how he feels when the shopkeeper says _”thank you, ma’am- er, sir-”_ , but it isn’t good. He scowls as he leaves the shop.

Oh, and the red of the sheath will hide any blood that splatters on it. That could be useful, Felix supposes. Although, blood will probably end up on the shaft of the lance too. Well, he hopes Sylvain likes it anyway.

As he makes his way out of the marketplace, Felix spots a shop that he hasn’t noticed before. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but something draws him to stop and take a closer look. It’s an apothecary- fairly standard for a marketplace, really. It's nothing special, yet he finds himself crossing the threshold into the small shop, heart beating hard in his chest.

The apothecary is quiet, dark, and oddly soothing. Felix’s eyes travel across the interior slowly, taking in the design. Bottles, bowls, and jars litter the numerous shelves. Candles in various pale hues create a warm glow through the shop, despite the dark colour of the walls. Silver detailing catches his eye, as does the woman examining a plant at the back counter.

Felix approaches her brusquely. She looks up from her plant and smiles at him.

“Welcome to my apothecary. I haven’t seen you around before. Need help finding anything?”

She’s friendly, Felix notes, and seems knowledgeable. Although he supposes that’s to be expected from a store owner.

“What is all this?” he asks, gesturing around to nothing in particular. She lifts an eyebrow and laughs lightly.

“ _All this_ is various ingredients to be used in medicine or other types of drugs. Surely, you didn’t walk into here not knowing what an apothecary is?”

Felix shrugs. “So, you sell magic plants?”

The woman sighs. “Something like that. Are you interested in anything in particular, or…?”

Felix doesn’t answer, opting to instead turn and begin browsing the magic plants. He doesn’t really get this kind of stuff. The infirmary at Garreg Mach, while cutting-edge in terms of healing, is laughably lacking when it comes to what he _actually_ needs. He finds a long, fern-like plant in a blue-tinted jar and lifts it up.

“What is this?”

“That’s called _Eurycoma longifolia_ , or longjack.” The woman has come to stand by him as he examines the jar.

“What does it do?”

“Well, most ingredients in this shop are just that: ingredients. They need to be combined with other ingredients to make anything that works. This plant, specificallu, is commonly used in medicines that enhance one’s masculine features.”

Felix nearly drops the jar. He sets it back on the shelf, hands shaking slightly. “Masculine features?”

“C’mon, kid, I’m not gonna spell it all out for you.” Felix looks up and the woman is smiling. “It’ll make you build muscle easier, increase your sex drive, stuff like that. Of course, it all depends on what specific medicine you make.”

_Build muscle easier… enhance masculine features… and Manuela said there wasn’t anything she could do! Fucking bullshit!_

“Right.” He clears his throat, looking back at the plant. “So, can it… only be taken by men? To enhance what’s already there?”

When he looks back at the woman, she has a knowing grin on her face. “Actually, longjack has been used in certain medicines to help transgender males transition into bodies they feel more comfortable in.”

… 

“What.” Felix says flatly.

So not only is there precedence for this, but an apothecary exists _in the monastery’s fucking marketplace_ that can help him transition? He’s going to have a _talk_ with Manuela later. But even though he’s angry, another emotion quickly pushes it aside. Excitement. _Validation_.

The woman laughs. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Felix,” he says slowly, and her smile is warm.

“The second son of the Fraldarius family, I believe?”

Something warm erupts in his chest and he can’t hide his smile.

“...yes.”

“Well, then I believe I can help you. Follow me to the back. Let’s make a deal.”

Felix follows, and he realises this is the happiest he’s felt in a long time.

When he leaves the apothecary nearly an hour later, he can’t help the lightness in his step. The woman told him to call her Violet ( _”I guess I was meant to work as an apothecary with a name like that, right?”_ she said, and Felix huffed a laugh), but she also told him… _so much more_. She told him that trans people existed across Fódlan, have _always_ existed across Fódlan, and even in other parts of the world. In Brigid, Almyra, Sreng- she told him about how in Brigid, they have spirits of masculinity and femininity and androgyny, and oftentimes people didn’t limit themselves to just one idea of gender. Felix listened, rapt, as she discussed ideas he didn’t even know existed: a gender binary and those who existed outside of it, sexuality as something that was fluid, and even told him about how Pan, advisor to the King of Lions, was a trans man.

She gave him some sort of tablets she called _tea_ and laughed when he expressed confusion that it wasn’t liquid. 

_The letter T_ , she said. _Oh_ , Felix said. 

She told him to take one a day and that she would check up on him when he came in for work.

 _Work?_ , he asked. She explained that she would provide him with T for free as long as he did some sort of work at her shop. He could do some sort of security while she taught him about the ingredients she kept, and then eventually, he could start to mix his own medicine in the back.

So, they had a deal. He would come in for work twice a week, and she would provide him with T.

And _Goddess_ , is he happy.

Yes, he’s late for dinner with his friends, but he doesn’t care. They’ll forgive him. What matters right now is getting back to his room so he can make sure his T is safe. Once Felix has safely tucked the tablets away, he looks in the mirror and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:  
> felix gets boy juice! i frantically googled 'plants that increase testosterone' for this. i am not personally on t yet, but if anyone is and would like to help me out, i'd appreciate some personal accounts of what t is like.
> 
> felix can have a little happiness, as a treat
> 
> sorry this chapter is shorter than usual. i couldn't expand it without making it feel forced, and i want sylvain's birthday dinner to be from his pov.
> 
> there's still fe3h (mostly sylvix) art on my instagram [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/maximus.artimus/) ;D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:  
> underage drinking

The problem with Claude is that he’s a guy. The bigger problem is that Sylvain’s doesn’t mind.

Sylvain holds a garland of white roses in his hands. He frowns to himself. He should have been upset- or at least politely uninterested- but he took the gift happily when Claude presented it. Yes, he’s hooked up with guys in the past, but only when drunk. Claude shouldn’t have been different, but he's insisted on following Sylvain into sobriety. And Sylvain… is ok with it.

Why? Why does he want to know what Claude’s lips feel like when neither of them are inebriated?

He’s straight. Right? He’s spent so long chasing women that it’s become ingrained into his personality- ingrained into who he is as a person. He’s not gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, it’s just- it’s just- he’s not. He’s just not. Just because he- just because Claude- he was drunk, it doesn’t count-

He’s a noble. He has a Crest. He has to find a wife, eventually, and have wonderful little Crest babies with her to continue his family’s vicious cycle of false love. So he can’t be gay. It goes against everything he’s ever been told, everything Miklan ever-

Sylvain groans and tosses the garland onto his dresser. It’s not the first he’s received this month, or even today. He’s gotten anonymous gifts, taken them in person from flustered girls, even had one placed on his head from behind by a bold male student. Curse the Garland Moon and its stupid traditions. He’s dealing with enough shit as is.

And it’s only the fifth. Sylvain gets the feeling that it’s going to be a long month.

Oh, right. It’s the fifth. It’s his birthday.

Sylvain pushes a chair against his door and sets a stack of books on it. He checks the lock a few times before feeling satisfied. He turns to his mirror and pauses, then frowns at his reflection.

He’s twenty years old now. Twenty years of being hated for existing. Twenty years of trying, trying, and giving up. Twenty years of taking the easy way out regardless of how it damaged his reputation.

Being gay would make people hate him more, right? Are people accepting in Fódlan? He’s honestly not sure. He’s only seen a handful of gay couples over his life, and there didn’t _seem_ to be any stigma, but… he’s not sure. It’s too risky. His father will probably finish what Miklan started if Sylvain comes out.

Wait, but- shit- he’s not going to come out. Because he’s not gay. So his father doesn’t have anything to worry about. Except for… literally everything else about Sylvain. Well, at least he has one thing going for him.

What would Miklan say if he found out Sylvain has had sex with men? What would he _do?_

The thought drives Sylvain to check the lock on his door again.

Miklan always strived to ruin his birthdays. Sylvain grimaces to himself. _’Ruin’_ is certainly a word for what he did. _’Attempted murder’_ is probably more accurate.

Of course, Miklan tried to kill him all the time, not just on his birthdays. But… it was always worse. It was always worse on the anniversary of _“the day you ruined my fucking life!”_

Fuck, what time is it? Sylvain glances out of the window in his dorm. Judging by the sun, it’s around 5 PM, maybe a little earlier. He, Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid agreed to meet in front of the entrance hall at 5:30 PM before going to dinner, so he should head down soon. He'll change into something other than his Officers Academy uniform first, and then he’ll go. Yeah, that sounds good.

Sylvain changes quickly, not paying too much attention to what he’s doing. His hand brushes against a fading hickey on his chest. He genuinely can’t remember who left it. Claude seems like a likely offender- from what he can remember of their _encounter_ , he was definitely eager with his mouth. Or maybe it was the girl from yesterday, but the hickey seems too faded to be that recent.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Sylvain buttons up his shirt to cover the mark and pulls a blazer on. It’s red, a complement to his hair. He kneels to pull on his boots, then stands and turns to his mirror. He ruffles his hair. Good enough. He’s already hooked up with one girl today; he doesn’t need to attract anyone else for the evening. He’s just going out for dinner with his three closest friends.

He tucks a dagger into his belt just in case. It’s his birthday, after all. He won’t be surprised if Miklan ends up trying to kill him.

Sylvain moves the chair from in front of his door and exits his room, closing the door behind him gently. He fiddles with the lock for a minute or so. He’s always wary, but today… he checks a few extra times, just to be sure.

When he turns around, he nearly jumps. Dimitri stands outside his own room. 

“Dimi- Your Highness! You should’ve said something,” Sylvain exclaims. He tries to ignore the heat rushing to his cheeks. Now Claude _and_ Dimitri have seen his obsession over locks. _I just need to get Edelgard in on it, at this point._

Dimitri just smiles, seemingly unfazed by Sylvain’s behaviour. “I did not want to interrupt you. I assume you are about to make your way to the entrance hall?”

Sylvain nods, biting his cheek. Didn’t want to interrupt, huh? “Yeah. Do you know if Ingrid and Felix are already down there?”

“I believe Ingrid is. I have not seen Felix, but I am sure he will be punctual. Would you like to walk together?”

Sylvain lets himself smile, just a little. He can’t help but relax around Dimitri. Maybe it’s because they’ve known each other for so long, or maybe it’s because he’s pretty sure Dimitri is incapable of being insincere. Whatever it is, he’s grateful for the change of pace.

“Yeah, I’d love to. Shall we?”

They fall into step beside each other, making their way from the dormitories to the entrance hall. Dimitri mentions that he looks nice, and Sylvain blushes lightly.

_What the hell?_ He doesn’t even blush at compliments from _girls_. And Dimitri’s complimented him plenty of times before! Goddess, he really needs to take the time for some introspection.

He knows he won’t.

When they reach the front of the entrance hall, Ingrid waves them over. She smiles and reiterates Dimitri’s compliment. Sylvain returns in kind and notably does not blush.

“Have either of you seen Felix? I lost him after class today."

Sylvain shakes his head. “I haven’t seen him since, either. He won’t be too late, though. As much as he tries to convince us all otherwise, I know he cares about us.” He grins and tries to ignore how little he believes his own words.

They chat amicably for about ten more minutes before Felix shows. He comes from the direction of the dormitories, but Sylvain swears he didn’t see him there when he and Dimitri left. Well, it’s not his business. Some voice in the back of his mind whispers that _he was trying to avoid you_ and Sylvain knows it’s true, but he ignores it.

Actually, Felix looks… oddly happy. His eyes are bright and the corners of his lips are relaxed rather than pulled into a scowl. He doesn’t even insult any of them when he joins the group.

“Felix! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us,” Sylvain jokes, smiling at his friend. His heart does a funny dance in his chest, which he pointedly ignores. He’s probably just happy that Felix looks content.

“Well, I’m here. Let’s go.” Felix is as blunt as ever, but his words aren’t laced with acid. Sylvain swallows and nods. He sees Ingrid and Dimitri exchange a look, and then they set off.

“So, how has your birthday been, Sylvain?” Ingrid asks to kick off conversation. Sylvain gives her a smile.

“Good! The professor took me out to tea earlier, which was really nice. She also gave me a pass on the homework for tonight,” Sylvain replies. Felix scoffs from next to him.

“Just because you’ve gotten older, huh?”

“Hey, respect your elders, young man!” Sylvain takes a risk and elbows Felix. His friend just rolls his eyes, but Sylvain notices that the corners of his mouth quirk up.

Not that he’s complaining that Felix is in a good mood, but he wonders what brought it on. Maybe he finally got a taste of romance? As far as Sylvain knows, Felix has never been romantically- or sexually- involved with anyone. Although, Felix has never seemed interested in girls. His interests boil down to training, and… well, that’s pretty much it, actually.

Sylvain ignores the feeling in his stomach when he thinks about Felix with a girl.

“I am pleased that your birthday has been enjoyable so far, Sylvain,” Dimitri smiles at him, and _oh Goddess, he’s cute. What the fuck, me. What the fuck-_

“As am I! Twenty years is a big accomplishment,” Ingrid adds. 

Sylvain snorts out a laugh. With Miklan? Yeah, it is.

“Aw, guys! You’re gonna make me blush,” he teases, deciding not to mention the real reason- reasons?- he’s blushing. Dimitri laughs a little, and yep, Sylvain’s definitely blushing.

It’s odd, he thinks as they continue to walk and talk. He should be upset, he should be overthinking, he should be worrying about the lock on his door, he should be expecting a rope or a dagger or _something_ , he should be confused that Felix is talking to him like they’ve never fought- but he’s not. He’s just… well, he’s not sure. As the four of them banter, Sylvain searches himself for a word to define how he feels. He can’t think of anything. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he felt like this.

Maybe he’s never felt like this.

“Reservation for four, please. Blaiddyd.” Dimitri says once they reach their destination. The hostess’s eyes widen a little.

“A-ah, Your Highness! Of course, right this way!”

Sylvain just offers Dimitri a consolidatory smile when he sees him huff slightly. He knows that Dimitri dislikes the privilege he receives as the crown prince, but there’s really nothing to be done about it.

Their table is secluded and well-lit. Sylvain has a feeling that this spot is specifically for those of high class. He kind of hates that they get to sit here, but… it’s his birthday. He’s supposed to be happy. What happened to that nice feeling from earlier?

Sylvain sits first at his friends’ request. Ingrid sits to his right, Felix to his left, and Dimitri across from him. Sylvain makes eye contact with Dimitri for a second- maybe a second longer than friends should- and finds himself temporarily lost in deep blue.

Shit, he needs a fucking drink if this sort of thing is going to keep happening. He looks away from Dimitri and instead catches Felix’s eye. His eyes are bright, sharp, and most notably, not narrowed. Sylvain forces his eyes to move, but he just ends up looking at Felix’s lips. They’re chapped and relaxed in wonderful neutrality.

Sothis, what is _wrong_ with him?

Sylvain turns to look at Ingrid and relaxes. Ingrid is comforting; he doesn’t have the urge to gaze into her eyes until they swallow him up, which is apparently what’s happening with his other two friends right now. She smiles at him gently.

“So, what are you all going to order?”

Ingrid is a lifesaver in so many ways, Sylvain thinks as conversation starts again. He really needs to find a good way to thank her for… everything she’s ever done. 

When their waiter arrives, Sylvain flirts with her to keep his mind off his real interests at the table. She seems politely disinterested, so he backs off after a little bit, opting to instead order drinks for the table. 

“Goddess, can you go one day without hitting on women?” Felix rolls his eyes when their waiter leaves. Sylvain shrugs.

“Hey, if I see a beautiful woman, I feel like it’s only polite to let her know! I backed off when she wasn’t interested.”

“That is so not how it works,” Ingrid mutters.

“C’mon, let’s talk about someone else’s experience with women. Dimitri! Any possible queens of Faerghus yet?”

Dimitri coughs, his cheeks reddening. Sylvain pinches his thigh. He _cannot_ get distracted by how lovely that looks.

“I- no, Sylvain, there are not.”

“Any possible kings?”

Sylvain freezes for a second, then turns to Felix. “ _Kings?_ ”

He must have imagined that. Right? Felix _cannot_ be bringing up the possibility that Dimitri is gay _right now_. Not when Sylvain is in the middle of a crisis.

Dimitri’s blush is considerably darker. Felix shrugs.

“He could be gay. I’m just saying, don’t assume there’s a queen in his future.”

Sylvain is speechless. He would have never thought- Felix, of all people, bringing up homosexuality in casual conversation- he’s going to _fucking die_ by the end of this dinner.

Their drinks arrive, and Sylvain downs his in nearly one gulp. He really needs a looser grasp on reality right now. They’re dangerously close to a conversation that he is _not_ ready to have.

Fortunately, the sight of Sylvain drinking a glass of wine in nearly one go brings the topic away from Dimitri’s sexuality. Unfortunately, now Ingrid is concerned that he’s been drinking too much.

“Sylvain, are you sure you’ve been ok? You drank in a practiced motion, as if you’ve done it many times before.”

“Oh, lovely Ingrid.” Sylvain smiles at her and sets his empty glass back on the table, “Just because I’ve drunk before doesn’t mean I’m not ok. Besides, this is my birthday! I’m allowed to spice things up.”

He gives a wink for good measure, and she seems sated for the moment, taking a sip of her own wine.

Their food arrives soon after and the conversation dies down as they eat. The food is excellent and the drink flows freely. By the time the four leave to return to the monastery, Sylvain is pleasantly buzzed, Felix is stumbling, and Dimitri is leaning on Ingrid, whose face is flushed.

“Tonight was a lot of fun,” Sylvain says, and he means it. Aside from that thing about Dimitri maybe being gay. Seriously, what the hell, Felix?

“Sorry we’re not girls,” Felix slurs- wow, he’s definitely drunk- and then looks at Ingrid. “Oh- well, most of us.”

Ingrid tries to shrug, but Dimitri just clings to her. Sylvain’s chest feels warm at the sight. Or maybe it’s the alcohol.

“Hey, I care about you guys more than I care about chasing after girls,” Sylvain replies honestly. 

“Wish you acted like it more often,” Ingrid mumbles. Sylvain feels his heart drop a little and chooses to pretend he didn’t hear her.

“Hey- boar- Dimitri.” Felix leans on Dimitri, and Ingrid stumbles. Sylvain moves quickly to support her. Dimitri hums.

“Are you really gay? Or just a pussy?”

Sylvain snorts despite himself. The alcohol seems to be stopping him from freaking out over the topic of homosexuality. He’s grateful. Dimitri doesn’t respond.

“Ah, I see. You’re also a pussy when it comes to answering my questions.”

Sylvain bursts out laughing at that. Unfortunately, he’s laughing too hard to keep stable, and he trips. And then Ingrid falls because she was leaning on him. And then Dimitri falls because he was leaning on Ingrid, and then Felix falls because he was leaning on Dimitri.

The four of them end up sprawled on the ground in a giggling heap. Sylvain is being crushed by the weight, but he doesn’t really mind. It’s nice, in a way. It’s warm and comforting and feels like… like friendship. None of them move for a good while, until Felix starts to snore.

Ingrid starts laughing, then Sylvain joins in, and Dimitri eventually cracks. Felix starts, then begins giggling too, and it sounds like heaven.

And there they are, just four friends collapsed in a pile outside of the dormitories. Even when they eventually get up and make their way to their individual rooms, Sylvain keeps the feeling of lightness close.

When he falls asleep, he doesn’t even realise he didn’t lock his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:
> 
> i call this one "sylvain is having a gay crisis and felix isn't helping"
> 
> anyway, there's fe3h art on my instagram [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/maximus.artimus/) ;P


	9. Chapter 9

Look, he gets that the Garland Moon is a time of blossoming relationships and all that shit. But seriously, this is getting ridiculous.

Sylvain’s received no less than _forty_ garlands so far this month. And there’s still a week left before the month is over!

Felix just scowls as he watches Sylvain thank another stupid girl for another stupid garland. He makes some promise to the girl about meeting her for a date or whatever, then turns back to Felix.

“Sorry, Felix. You were saying?”

“Forget it,” he huffs.

“C’mon, don’t be like that! Look, I’m sorry if it bothers you. It’s not my fault that they want to give me the stupid things!” Sylvain looks genuinely upset. Felix rolls his eyes.

“I’m not mad at you. It’s just annoying.”

“Then- well, look, what can I do? Do you want the garland? They can be for close friends, too.” Sylvain offers the garland toward him.

Felix shakes his head and stands. Close friends, sure. He knows very well that the garlands are for those of the opposite sex. “I’m going to train. I’m sure you have a date to get to, anyway.”

Sylvain protests, but Felix ignores him and makes his way to the training grounds. It’s around 11 AM right now, and he has work at 2 PM. He’ll train, get some food, train some more, than go down to the apothecary.

After about half an hour of training on his own, Sylvain joins him. Felix is taken aback, even more so when their spar ends in a stalemate.

“I’m surprised,” he comments, stepping back from Sylvain. “I had imagined you were slacking on your training. Clearly I was wrong.”

“Yeah, well…” Sylvain pushes his hair back, sweat dripping down his forehead. “I haven’t been. You’re a tough opponent at the best of times.”

Felix hums.

“Hey, how about we go get lunch? Maybe find some girls to chat up?”

Felix glares.

“Alright, just lunch then.”

He sighs an agreement and they make their way to the dining hall. On the way, Dimitri approaches them, a bunch of white roses in hand.

_Fucking hell, not him too._

“Your Highness! Who’s the lucky girl- er, or guy?” Sylvain has made a concerted effort to not assume that he’s surrounded by exclusively straight people, but Felix can tell he’s still not used to the idea. To be fair, he isn’t either. It’s only thanks to his time with Violet that he’s started opening his own mind.

Anyway, Dimitri still hasn’t told them if he’s gay or not. At this point, Felix suspects that he may be.

“Sylvain! Actually, I made these for you, Felix, and Ingrid. I already gave her hers, so it’s fortunate for me to find you two together.”

Hold on. For them? Maybe they _can_ be for close friends.

“I don’t want anything made by you,” he snaps. A flash of hurt crosses Dimitri’s face. Felix doesn’t really understand why. It’s not like he hasn’t said worse.

“C’mon, Felix. He made them for us! At least take it,” Sylvain frowns. “I really appreciate this, Your Highness. And I’m sure Felix does too, secretly.”

“I don’t.” He does.

Sylvain bends his head to allow Dimitri to place one of the garlands on his head. It’s the only one that Felix has seen him wear, actually. All of the ones from girls- and a few boys- were quickly tossed aside. But one in the name of friendship? Sylvain reaches up to adjust the roses and smiles.

Red and white. It’s a good look.

Wait-

Dimitri turns to Felix, the remaining garland held out like an offering. Felix just scowls.

“I’m not wearing that fucking thing.”

“You do not have to, Felix. I would just like you to take it.” Dimitri gives him a small smile.

Felix huffs and snatches the garland out of Dimitri’s hands. “Fine.” He hesitates. “...thank you.”

Dimitri’s bright smile makes it worth it, but Felix would never say it out loud. He looks down at the roses in his hands rather than up at his friend.

Friend. Yeah, he supposes they’re friends again at this point. He’s still hesitant to trust Dimitri, though. He knows exactly what he’s capable of.

Well, shit. What’s he supposed to do with this now? It’ll be inconvenient to carry it around, but he can’t just dispose of it with Dimitri watching. And… well, he doesn’t really _want_ to dispose of it, either. He can just put it in his dorm for now. Yeah, that’ll work.

Unfortunately, they’re nearly to the dining hall and it’ll be awkward if he doubles back. Fine. He’ll just hold it.

Dimitri ends up joining them for lunch. It’s not bad, really, his company, but… he handles his knife oddly, like he’s trying to convince himself it’s not a sword. Needless to say, Felix is eager to never see Dimitri handle a sword in real combat ever again.

“So, what will you two be doing after lunch?” Dimitri asks, setting his utensils down for a moment.

“I’ve got a date.” Sylvain stretches, then frowns. “Maybe two. I don’t remember.”

Dimitri sighs. Felix scoffs.

“You’re insatiable. The least you could do is fucking keep your dates in order, if you’re going to keep going on them.”

“Felix-”

“No, he’s right,” Sylvain sighs and looks away. Felix looks down at his plate, frowning.

“Glad you’ve finally realised it. Though I doubt you’ll actually change your behaviour.”

Really. The amount of times Sylvain has promised to change his behaviour and then done nothing is uncountable. No matter how sincere he seems, he never follows through on his word. At least, not when it comes to his philandering. Sylvain is as reliable as they come for favours or battle. It’s odd, now that Felix thinks about it. How can someone be so reliable and yet so predictably _unreliable_?

“No, I will! It’s just-” Felix looks up with a raised eyebrow. Sylvain runs a hand through his hair and opens his mouth to continue. Felix cuts him off.

“Save your breath. The boar and I both know that you’re not going to change shit. I can’t count the number of times that you’ve told one of us that you’ll change, and here we are again.” His voice is scathing.

“Felix, I’m sure he-”

“Shut up, boar.” Felix throws Dimitri a sharp look. He seems to deflate slightly, and Felix thinks _some prince of Faerghus you are_. He then turns back to Sylvain, whose face is impassive.

“So? Do you lie to us, Sylvain, or are you simply incapable of going two days without using girls for your own benefit? Hurting them just because-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Felix,” Sylvain snaps back, “Do you get off on trying to provoke me or something? It’s none of your fucking business what I do with my spare time or the consequences I suffer because of it. That’s my issue and my issue alone, got it?” 

Felix’s eyes narrow. Sylvain seems angry, maybe upset, but he still seems to be _present_. Not like a month ago. His eyes, while narrowed in anger, are still warm.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he hisses back. Sylvain huffs and stands.

“I’m done here.”

He leaves.

Felix turns back to his food and stabs a piece of meat with his fork. “Fucking idiot. Does he not know that those consequences affect people other than him? He’s fucking ridiculous, and not in a good way.”

He’s half talking to himself, half to Dimitri. Dimitri only sighs as Felix starts to eat again.

“I believe he’s troubled, but I’m not sure what with.” Dimitri places his utensils on his plate. Felix swallows and scoffs, turning to him.

“What the hell does he have to be troubled about? He’s smart, clearly he’s attractive because he can still manage to fuck all these women even with his reputation, he’s a noble with his future laid out for him. He’ll never have to worry about money, status, marriage- tell me, boar prince, what the hell does he have to be troubled about?”

Felix glares at Dimitri for a second, then stands. “Nevermind. I’m going to train.”

He grabs his garland off the table before he leaves. Stupid, it’s all stupid. Sylvain, Dimitri, these goddamn roses- why the hell would Dimitri make something like this for him? Felix has been nothing but hostile to him for two years, unless you counted Sylvain’s birthday. But he was drunk, so it doesn’t count. He still hates Dimitri.

Right? He hates Dimitri. Right. That’s how it’s been for two years, and that’s how it always will be.

It’s just… it’s hard to hate someone who takes the time to make you a gift intended for close friends. _Or potential lovers,_ his brain supplies unhelpfully. 

Yeah, sure. Him and Dimitri? That’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. The boar’s probably gay, and Felix knows damn well that no one in their right mind would date someone like _him_. Someone transgender.

Anyway, if he were to date one of his friends, it’d be Sylvain. Not Dimitri.

_Hold on, WHAT. What the fuck. No, no, what the fuck-_

Felix throws open the door to his room and slams it behind him. He throws the garland on his dresser before face-planting onto his bed. He can’t fucking believe himself. That he genuinely thought that he would date Sylvain. No. _No._

There are so many things wrong with that idea. One, Sylvain’s straight. Two, if Felix is willing to date him, that means he likes Sylvain romantically. Which he does _not_. Three, Sylvain sees him as a girl. But that means that he _could_ possibly be interested in Felix, right? Because he’s straight. _Fuck_ , this is confusing. Would Sylvain not want to date him because he’s straight and Felix is a guy, or- but if he still sees Felix as female, then-

_Oh, for fuck’s sake!_ It doesn’t matter. Because Felix doesn’t want to date Sylvain in any way, shape, or form. Because he doesn’t like Sylvain, and because Sylvain is too busy chasing women and being an asshole half the time.

The thoughts go back and forth in Felix’s head for over an hour. When he realises the time he’s wasted, he jumps up. Fuck, he can’t believe he just spent more than an hour wallowing in bed. At this point, he’ll have to just go down to work without training at all. _Goddamnit!_

It’s not that he minds going to work. It’s just that he’s angry he let himself waste so much time. He could have been training. And more importantly, he wasted over an hour thinking about _Sylvain_. That’s fucking pathetic.

Normally he wastes time thinking about how much he hates his body and the society he was born into. It’s an unwelcome change to think about _Sylvain_ , of all things.

Felix spends the time on his way down to the marketplace thinking about how pissed he is that he wasted time thinking. Sure, he acknowledges that he can’t spend all his time training. But he could’ve been doing something productive, at least! Wasting time thinking about how he doesn’t want to date his friends is stupid. He’s better than that.

“As sullen as ever, I see,” Violet says when he slinks into the apothecary. Felix shrugs and says nothing. She smiles at him.

“Well, that’s alright. Someone special should be stopping by soon, so I hope that’ll cheer you up.”

“Who?” Felix asks.

“Oh, you’ll see. Let’s just say she’s been rather instrumental in helping me become who I am today.” There’s a hint of laughter in Violet’s voice.

As much as Felix hates not being in the know, he’s still too pissed at himself to insist that Violet tell him who’s coming. And really, he doesn’t know why he’s so upset. The logical part of him says that sure, he’s lost an hour, but that’s no different than taking a nap or studying. And there’s nothing wrong with thinking, really. The louder, angrier part of him says that it’s _bullshit_ that he wasted time and that napping or studying are productive in their own ways, while thinking is not.

Whatever. It’s all bullshit. He should just try to focus on work.

“Alrighty then, Felix. Ready for a pop quiz?”

“Uh-”

“What is this and what are its uses?” Violet holds up a jar with some leaves in it. Felix frowns. The leaves are cupped and pleated, almost resembling a weird star or a spiky clover. He racks his brain, desperately trying to identify the plant.

“It’s… uh…”

Violet opens the jar and pulls one leaf out, holding it up. “C’mon, I know you remember this one. You _hated_ it when I described its uses.”

“Oh! Lady’s mantle?” Felix guesses. Violet smiles, nodding.

“That’s right. Now, its uses?” She prods.

Felix groans. “It has uses in menstruation and menopause, right? Shit with the uterus?”

“Correct!” Violet places the leaf back into the jar and closes it before setting it down. “It’s most often made into tea, but can be effective when applied externally as well. Ok, now-”

Violet is cut off by the sound of the door opening. She turns to it instantly, and her face lights up. Felix turns as the door closes and a woman walks into the shop.

“Oh, sorry to interrupt,” the woman says, but Violet just beams at her.

“No, you didn’t interrupt!”

The two just look at each other for a few seconds before Felix clears his throat. Violet jumps and turns back to him.

“Oh, sorry Felix. This is my wife, Cynthia.”

“Wife?” Felix says, like an idiot. 

Cynthia raises an eyebrow at him. Violet just laughs. “Honestly, you’ve been working here for a few weeks and didn’t realise that I’m gay? How do you think I knew about you?”

Felix just flushes and looks away. “Whatever.” He doesn’t want to admit that he’s been too preoccupied with thoughts of Sylvain to even think about Violet’s sexuality. And he’s still getting used to the idea of people not necessarily being straight.

Come to think of it, is _he_ even straight? When he thought about which of his friends he would date, he didn’t think of Ingrid. He thought of Sylvain.

_Goddess_ , why can’t he stop thinking about Sylvain? It seems like every thought he has eventually leads Felix to picturing his friend’s face. His stupid, handsome face.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He can’t get distracted _again_.

“Hello,” Felix says to Cynthia, who nods in return.

There’s silence for a few more seconds while Violet looks expectantly at Cynthia. She just raises an eyebrow.

“What? He already heard my name and a nod is a suitable enough response to ‘hello’.”

Felix silently agrees, turning away from the two as they begin to bicker. Work should be interesting today, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids, let's talk:  
> actually, let's _not_ talk about how this chapter is, like, a month late. listen, finals and shit got the better of me. that, and ive been playing hella overwatch (add me at TheoNly#11225 lol).
> 
> anyway, this chapter is kinda a mess. but at least i drew some art for sylvain's birthday! check it out [@maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/maximus.artimus/) ;)


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